#and both heaved over the trashcan

[natjennie]

does anyone out here have a dad that isnt an asshole all the fucking time. like is it even possible.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 4 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 16k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: thank you guys so much for all the love on the last chapter, sending all of you forehead smooches <3

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 4 – The Note

‘I wish you goodness but I can’t be around to see it.’ — Unknown

You can't say if you've slept at all. Everything seems not inherently wrong, but unimportant. Your body keeps functioning on its own accord, no doubt using up all the reserves it can. But it functions surprisingly well, given the circumstances. You’re not throwing up anymore. Still, a trashcan is placed next to the bed. A glass of water and some tissues occupy the nightstand that usually sits empty, Joel only using the one on his side of the bed.

It’s a bittersweet reminder that you don’t belong here. It’s not your bed or your house, Joel is not yours. The things that are yours are undoubtedly being inspected by whoever Maria has tasked with investigating the situation. Kitchen drawers being rummaged through, notebooks for your classes being picked apart. Looking at a room and weighing whether or not it could’ve belonged to someone who wanted to leave.

You wonder whether or not they’ve found the letter yet. Considering where Lane could’ve placed it so that you wouldn’t see. It suddenly strikes you that she must have been gone when you woke up. That while you were tiptoeing around the bathroom and kitchen, trying to make no noise that could wake her, her bed was empty.

You avoid going further down that road. You don’t think you could stand it if she’d already been dead while you drank your coffee and pulled on your winter coat and flipped through books without a care in the world.

Life pretending that it was still as it had been the day before.

Joel got up a while ago, far too early if the darkness outside the windows is anything to go by. You felt the mattress dip and then rise as he disentangled himself from the sheets while you were giving no sign that you were awake and listened to the floorboards creak as he headed through the room and escaped into the hallway.

It takes you a solid ten minutes to convince your body to crawl out from under the warm covers, still radiating the smell you’ve come to associate with Joel, and pad over to the bathroom. You try hard not to look into the mirror. Of course, just like with everything else, you fail.

The face staring back at you carries dark circles, glassy eyes. The corners of your mouth are slightly cracked, no doubt from last night's intense heaving. But what strikes you most is that every part of your face seems rid of any emotion. There is no light in your eyes. They look just as dead as you imagine Lane’s to be.

You stare at your reflection until your eyes begin to burn. You try to remember to blink. To take a breath and then another and another. Nothing seems to work like it should.

Joel is in the kitchen when your feet carry you downstairs a few minutes later. He pretends to be very busy with the dishes, but you know he’s been waiting for you to wake up. He reaches for the checkered dish towel to wipe his hands before turning his full attention to you. He doesn’t look like he has slept much either. His salt-and-pepper hair is a tad messier than usual. It suddenly strikes you how much lighter it has become since you first met him.

“Hey,” he mumbles, standing in front of you a bit sheepishly. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “Do you want to have breakfast?”

“Did they bring her letter yet?” You both speak at the same time and then fall quiet.

You can see his shoulders sinking a bit as he takes in your words and his tone sounds careful when he shakes his head. “Not yet. I'm sure they will, in a bit.”

His eyes are trained on your expression and you're close enough that you are certain he is seeing you the same way you saw the person in the mirror. Empty, lifeless. Dead.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” he asks tentatively but you immediately shake your head. 

“No, I won't be able to sleep anyway.”

Joel gives a small grumble at that, deep in his throat. It almost sounds like disappointment. “You didn't sleep?” 

You sigh a little, again shaking your head. “Maybe a bit. I'm not sure.” After a moment, you add, “My brain feels all weird today.”

He nods, slowly taking a step forward and wrapping an arm around you. “Your brain is allowed to feel a bit weird today, all things considered.” For a few moments, you both just stay like that, his hand trailing over your back, rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt. His eyes fall to your legs, both noticeably banged up from your fall yesterday.

“Does it still hurt?” he mutters, tilting his head to get a better look. 

“It's just a scratch.” When Joel reaches out to touch the small band-aid he insisted on putting onto your knee last night, you take a step back, causing him to freeze in his tracks.

“I’m fine. I'll go and read.”

Joel gives you a few minutes by yourself before he follows you into the living room, placing two mugs of coffee and some crackers on the table before sitting down on the couch. You're curled up on the armchair, only a few steps away from the front door, occasionally casting a glance out of the window to your right. The darkness is slowly fading, dawn ruthlessly drawing closer.

You've picked up a book without really bothering to check what it is. The cover is made of cloth, the color slightly faded, but the texture feels intact. It's a comforting weight in your lap and an even better excuse to keep your eyes off Joel, hyperaware that he is still watching your every move.

You feel like you're back to square one, to the first time you stepped foot into his house. Being taken in and assessed, like a wounded animal. Checking the damage, weighing the options. Deciding whether or not it should be put out of its misery.

Joel leans forward a bit, reaching for a small piece of wood that sits among a few others on the table. Then, he gets out the whittling knife that he keeps in the pocket of his jeans and begins to chip away. 

Even with his eyes focused on the work in front of him, he can tell you're not really reading, your gaze unmoving. You haven't turned the page in at least ten minutes. But he knows not to push. He's content to sit here and wait by your side.

The silence during the next hours is only broken by the small sounds coming from Joel whittling. The small piece of wood he fetched before dawn has turned into the shape of an animal, continuously getting more clear as he works on it. You've put the book down an hour ago, giving up on pretending to read and instead just switching between staring at Joel's hands or into space.

You're certain it's the worst you've ever felt. Sitting and waiting, with the prospect of the letter of a dead girl being delivered today. The impatience drives you out of your seat, makes you pace, first in front of the fireplace, then behind the couch. Back and forth. You try counting the floorboards below you. There are twenty-seven, spanning through the entire room. You step on each one, avoiding the cracks in between. You sit back down. You curl up deeper into your armchair, staring out of the window.

You see him coming down the street before he sees you. When Tommy steps onto the porch, the door is already ajar, your form half hiding behind it. You don't notice the sad smile he sends you. Instead, your eyes are glued to the small paper envelope in his hand.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Joel says quietly from behind you, gently moving you to the side in order to let his brother enter. 

Tommy awkwardly stands in the small hallway for a moment before holding out the envelope. He clears his throat. “Reckon you’ve been waiting for this.” 

You nod automatically, taking the piece of paper from him with a gentle motion and then immediately clutching it to your chest. Tommy’s eyes fly from you to Joel, his eyebrow raising just a tiny bit. 

“Right,” Joel mutters, nodding into the direction of the kitchen. “Why don’t you grab some coffee?” You hear Tommy move further into the house while your fingers are caressing the envelope, staring at the letters on it that form your name.

“Do you want me to stay with you while you—” Joel gestures towards the letter. He watches your face closely as you shake your head. 

“No. I need to do this alone I think.”

“Okay. We’ll be right here if you need anything,” Joel mumbles quietly and reassuringly pats your back before he follows Tommy into the kitchen, leaving you standing in the hallway with a heavy feeling in your chest and the words of a dead girl in your hands.

***

You sit down on the bed, your entire body seemingly numb as you open the envelope and stare at the paper in your hands, filled with the smooth and playful handwriting you've come to recognize so easily.

I know you will not understand this,

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your hands from shaking so much that you can’t make out the words on the page. You already know what's coming and still you dread hearing the words in your head.

but I have decided to end my own life.

You stare at them for a moment. Trying to take them in, weighing them in your mind, trying to understand. But there is no understanding inside of you. Not for this.

I love you so incredibly much. I loved living with you and our time in Jackson was among the best I've had. I’m sorry to be the one to cut it short.

A dull pain throbs in your chest. You ignore it.

You deserve good things. But I know not many have been handed to you so far. I wish I could've been the one to give them to you.

Please do not blame yourself. This was my decision. I promise I’m at peace now.

Her words make you want to scream and cry and curl up into a ball and never speak to anyone ever again and do nothing but wait for Lane to come back. 

Instead, you just quietly hold the letter a little higher to avoid your tears staining the paper.

I know you came to Jackson looking for something. I really do hope you find it.

I wish you the most wonderful life.

I love you, forever.

Lane

***

“I don’t like this,” Joel mutters, his fingers anxiously tapping the counter he’s leaning on. His glance keeps wandering to the doorway, half expecting you to come running in at any moment and bury yourself in his arms. But there is no noise from upstairs, the only sounds in the old house being those of the clock on his kitchen wall and Tommy’s occasional small sighs.

“She shouldn't be alone,” he insists, unsure if he's actually talking to his brother or to himself.

“She's not alone, in a way,” Tommy says quietly. He's staring into his mug, clearly deep in thought as well. “In a way—” He shakes his head. “She's having her last moments with Lane.”

“Oh, gimme a break.” Joel groans, his right hand flying up to pinch his nose. “Do you realize how messed up that is? Leaving her a letter, with no chance to ever reply? The poor girl can’t sleep, she’s not eating—I ain’t trying to talk badly about Lane, god knows she was a sweet girl and I’m sure she had her issues—but she shouldn’t be putting ‘em on someone else just cause she feels like she can.”

At that, Tommy looks up, surveying his brother. All the softness has left his tone, replaced by a harshness that carries a tinge of accusation.

“Are you really the one to judge this?”

“Tommy-” Joel's voice has dropped a good bit too, making him sound like a growling dog. For a split moment, it feels like they’re back to their time before the QZ, back to the fights and the constant tension.

Joel drops his arm, waving his hand slightly. “This ain’t like that.”

“Bullshit.” Tommy gets up so suddenly that Joel startles slightly, but the younger Miller brother just gives a dry laugh and reaches to pour himself more coffee. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna hit you, old man.”

The quiet is broken by the small trickle of the coffee. Tommy glances towards Joel's mug to find it empty. “You want another cup?”

“Yes, please,” Joel mumbles, watching as Tommy pours the rest of the brown liquid into his mug. He places the kettle back on the stove before pausing.

“It is exactly like that, Joel. Now I ain’t saying I agree with what she did. But ‘t was her choice. Ain’t nothing we—” He nods towards the ceiling. “—or her can do about that.”

A small groan escapes Tommy’s lips as he sits back down at the kitchen table, stretching his legs. “Talking about it. How’s she been?”

Joel considers his words for a moment. “Bad. I don't know.” His gaze flies to the doorway again, each minute ticking by making him more restless.

“I talked to Maria this morning. Word should’ve reached everyone by now. The whole town is- they're in shock. Everyone’s devastated.” Tommy keeps his eyes on Joel as he takes a sip of his coffee, taking in his brother's silence.

“D’you think she knew? That Lane was gonna—” 

“No.” The answer shoots out of Joel's mouth before he can even consider it. Did you know? Or at least had an idea that something was happening under the surface? He hasn't even thought to ask, not with everything that's been going on.

“It’s just that, with this sort of thing, folks will ask questions—”

“Yeah, well, they won't be asking her any.” Joel suddenly feels like the room is much too small for him and Tommy. He’s dimly aware that this is technically not his job—that you're an adult and not his responsibility, that he should leave the decisions to you—but then he remembers the way you looked on his bathroom floor last night, dry heaving and sobbing so hard he was sure you were gonna pass out from the lack of oxygen.

“She ain’t ready for that.”

Tommy nods, finally averting his gaze. He knows this tone, the slight edge in it. It means there will be no further discussion and he's not keen to push for a fight in the current situation. He finishes his mug, draining it of the last drops.

“There's one more thing. Lane’s mother wants a proper burial. We've been talking to Eugene about it and—” He clicks his tongue a little as he shakes his head. “With the ground frozen over like that, there's no way to dig a grave.”

It's something Joel already should’ve considered. He's been around long enough to know these things, having dug more than enough graves himself. It was hard labor under the best of conditions. But plainy impossible during the Wyoming winter. 

He's not sure why, when he knows all this, Tommy’s words strike him so hard. The girl who hasn’t made it to twenty-six is not even gonna get a grave.

***

You probably should be breaking down. Screaming or sobbing, hell, maybe throwing up again. Surely your body shouldn’t be so still, quiet, small breaths entering your lungs. Surely you should've stopped breathing by now.

But the body is relentless. It will keep you alive as long as it can, despite the thoughts in your head and the grief that seems to spin a cocoon around you, cutting you off from the things that are right in front of you, making them seem miles and miles away.

You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there when you stand up abruptly. You avoid reading the words again as you slip the letter back into its envelope and place it in the drawer of the nightstand Joel doesn't use.

You don't remember leaving the bedroom or walking down the wooden stairs. But somehow you're standing in the kitchen, with Joel kneeling in front of you. His right hand is intertwined with yours, his calloused fingers brushing past your knuckles and over the soft skin on the back of your hand. His thumb is gently massaging your palm, rubbing small circles into it.

You flinch a bit and, immediately, his features soften. “There you are. Can you hear me?” You manage a shaky nod.

“Good,” Joel praises quietly, still keeping up the circular motions on your skin. “You doin’ real good, darlin’. Now, do you know where you are?”

Your eyes leave him and fly around the room. Joel's kitchen looks exactly how you remember it, with the addition of two empty mugs standing next to the sink. You recognize the one with the owl painted on it as his. Maybe the other is yours, but you can’t recall drinking anything.

“Hm?” Joel hums quietly.

“We’re in your kitchen.” Relief floods Joel's face at that and he nods a little more eagerly. “That’s right. Think you can help me and sit down right there?” He jerks his head into the direction of the small table below the window and begins to move, very slowly pulling you along by your hand.

You pause just as you reach the table. “What time is it?”

Joel turns his head, squinting at the clock at the opposite wall. “Half past ten.” He tugs on your hand again. “Come on, sit down.”

But you are moving in the opposite direction, taking a step back. “I have to go and teach.”

Joel sighs but his voice stays patient. “Honey, you’re on leave, okay? You’re in no state to be teaching. Now come here.”

It’s the quiet, added “Please.” that makes you do as told.

A steaming mug is placed in front of you shortly after. “Made you some tea. Just be careful, ‘t’s still hot.” Your hands are close enough to feel the heat radiating off it and, slowly, you think you are coming back to yourself. Or rather, to the house you’re sitting in.

The cocoon is still there, so is the faulty wire. But they seem to hit you in waves rather than a constant state of anxiety. Somehow, that is worse. You could get used to a metaphorical limp, one that is a constant. But the waves make you feel like you’re drowning in them. If you could only take a deep breath before they come, fill your lungs with the air you need so urgently. But they hit you out of nowhere. You never see them coming.

Joel sighs a little, nudging the mug towards you. “Come on, at least try it.”

“I still have a mug of coffee in the living room,” you suddenly remember. You can’t recall whether or not you drank any of it.

“Honey, that was cold hours ago,” Joel says carefully. “The tea is still warm. Much better, right?”

You find that you can’t argue with that so you take a few, hesitant sips. The heat settles in your stomach. The tide is retreating. Breathing comes a little easier.

Maybe Joel feels the same or maybe he can just tell, somehow. But he too seems to relax a bit more as he watches you drink.

“It’s good,” you press out, craving words to fill the silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Not those words.

You shake your head and are incredibly thankful when Joel doesn’t push it this time. Still, you can tell that he looks troubled. “Want me to do some talking instead?”

“Okay,” you mumble, carefully taking another sip of your tea as you wait for him to speak.

“I talked to Tommy earlier, ‘bout some stuff regarding her—‘nd the next few days. Everyone’s been real sad. We thought it may be—” He cringes at the next word. “Nice to have a wake. Give people a chance to say goodbye and grieve before we bury her.” “Okay.”

He sighs, his eyes searching yours. He considers for a moment whether or not he should go on, explain that the burial can’t happen for a while, at least not with a body being put into the ground. Joel opens his mouth—and sees how much you seem to have aged in just a day.

He stays quiet.

Somehow, he gets you through the day. It’s late afternoon when a groan escapes Joel as he sits down on the couch. His back hurts and his head hurts and he is so goddamn tired. He hasn’t slept a second, having been too worried that you could wake up before him and sneak off.

He leans back into the soft fabric, stretching his legs slightly. You’re upstairs, taking a shower. Surely, it won’t hurt if he closes his eyes for just a minute.

***

It’s dark in the living room when Joel wakes again. The light that was streaming in through the windows earlier is gone and his heart rate instantly shoots up, the organ pumping wildly in his chest. He’s on his feet before his brain fully registers the situation. He moves quietly through the dark house, finding the kitchen and dining room empty.

He’s lucky that his left ear is turned towards the hallway when a small noise travels down the stairs. Joel reaches the landing of the upper floor with his revolver drawn. A trail of dim light falls through a crack in the door to his workshop.

Without making a noise, he pushes it open—and all tension immediately leaves his body. You’re perched on the stool he usually occupies, on the far corner of the tables that are arranged below the windows in an L-shape. The typewriter he’s been meaning to fix sits in front of you.

Joel tucks the gun back into his jeans as he opens the door further. The small creak, combined with the noise of footsteps, catches your attention and suddenly, Joel finds you turning towards him. He raises his hands slightly as he crosses the room. “Sorry. I fell asleep.”

“I know. I didn't want to wake you. You seemed really tired.” Joel stops right behind you, a small grumble escaping his throat as he strains his neck to see what you’re working on.

“You should wake me up,” he says quietly, his eyes wandering over the stack of paper and the tools scattered around the typewriter. “What are you doing?”

It's your turn to sigh, raising your shoulders a bit and letting them fall again after a moment. “I wanted to write a speech. For the service.” You can hear Joel swallow behind you.

“That's a nice idea. You sure you're up for it though?”

“Yeah, I’m—It’s okay. Or it would be, if this thing worked,” you groan, reaching for the screwdriver you’d put down when he joined you.

“Been meaning to fix it for a while. I can do it tomorrow if you like. Or now, if it’s urgent,” Joel mutters, taking another small step towards you, one hand placed on your back. He’s close enough that you can smell his body wash. His free hand, the one that had been closed around a gun less than a minute ago, moves over your shoulder and carefully pries the tool out of your hand.

“It’s late. You should get some sleep, at least.” It’s so caring that, again, you don’t find it in you to protest.

“Okay.”

A small, sad smile plays around Joel’s lips at that. He puts the screwdriver down, his form hovering above yours a split moment longer than necessary. Then, he leans forward and places a small kiss on the crown of your head.

“Come on. Off to bed.”

“Can I have a drink before we go?” If the question startles him, he doesn’t let it show.

“Yeah. Sure,” he says quietly. “Believe it or not, I was about to suggest that myself. You like whiskey, right?”

You’re content to find, half an hour later, that with your throat and belly warmed by the alcohol and the rest of your body warmed by Joel's form next to you, an arm draped around your shoulder as he pulls you into his chest, the waves that you could feel crashing in on you earlier seem to stay away. At least for the night.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing or commenting, i promise it will be the highlight of my day <3

[witheringwidgetwrites]

If I may do a request, how would the Brothers/Datables help out an MC who’s sick?

totally nonny' thanks for your request!! ♥️

This is based off of just general sickness, maybe food poisoning or a common cold, whichever.

tw for vomit? that should be it

LMK if yall wanna see the younger brothers!

LUCIFER

As soon as you start to grow on him, you come down with some sort of human sickness. Before now, he couldn't be bothered to help you himself, but when he finds you feverish, and your skin sticky, he's regretful that he can't stay longer.

50/50 chance of him having you rest in your own bed, or resting in his study on the couch so he can watch over you. Regardless of if he's having one of his brothers watch you, he definitely comes in to check on you every 1-2 hours.

Makes sure you're loaded with fluids, checks your temp every 6 hours, definitely finds medications for you, Tylenol, ibeauprofen, whatever he thinks is best.

As you grow even closer, he lets you rest in his room. you're more likely to go undisturbed, and his sheets are a mix of satin and silk, very comfortable. Ends up insisting on it so his brothers can't bother you.

Overall, 7.5/10. He is quick to help, but can't tend to you at all really. You don't have to ask him for anything either.

MAMMON

He takes you on your first initial date, and kisses you your bedroom goodnight. He's almost overly kind and romantic, his face flushed the entire time. You get food poisoning from the restaurant.

H finds out when he's burst into the bathroom and you're sitting on the floor next to the toliet, one hand pushing your hair back and the other on the toilet brim.

Even if you aren't super close, he'll hold your hair back. He's just more delicate if you're in a relationship. Also more scared and worried for you.

Gets quickly roped into a holistic therapy wellness pyramid scheme. He saunters in with a look that says, 'i am your savior, bow to me' and surprisingly it makes things worse because you have a slight allergic reaction. He feels awful.

Kind of panics at first, you'll have to explain that you're not dying. He brings up the prospect of seeing the TOP doctor of Devildom almost every hour. Diavolo wouldn't mind and you both know it.

Probably kicks back with you in your room, his hands shake a little when he tried to be forward and move your hair out of your face. Definitely is outright to ask what you need.

Overall, 5/10. Wastes money on the scheme but it's from a good place. You also have to ask him for what you need. But it can be a little annoying when you have snot hanging from your nose while he stares at you, and you have to specifically ask for a tissue.

LEVIATHAN

You had been fairly close friends for a couple months at this point, and it was obvious to everyone around you that he had the hots for you.

The one time he leaves his room, he comes to find you after you didn't answer his text, self deprecating thoughts loomed in the background and were quickly about to make him change his mind until he heard heavy breathing

"MC, you okay?" "Yeah sure, you can come in."

He found you sitting by the floor with a trashcan in front of you, leaning forward with both elbows propped up on the can.

During your sickness, he's got no qualms about asking Satan for help. He's quick to find medicine, wether it be from a nearby human novelty shop or from Lucifer, he's definitely averting his eyes while he hands it to you.

He offers to leave, but is elated when you ask him to stay with you. You see a small smile poke at his cheek. He sits next to you while you lay there, but turns his face away when you start to heave, and rubs your back out of instinct.

Overall, 6/10. He'll do almost anything you ask. But you have to ask. He will go out of his way to get you back to feeling better if he can though.

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 43

It's aliveeeeeee!!! 🙌 I can't even begin to describe how off my game I've been trying to write. I've had the entirety of IDBTWY written for months, but I honestly hated my writing, and editing was such a chore. I'm still not completely in love, but we need to push past so we can finally close this beast. I am slowly working through my creative drought, and hope to have some consistent content coming soon!

Also, credit to @123moiaussi for the "superseed" comment. 😉

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 6,187

Elain was sitting in the waiting room of the OBGYN office, knee bouncing nervously. This was her first-trimester check-up and she just wanted to make sure that everything was okay. Her nausea had been pretty awful over the last few weeks and she had grown excessively tired—to the point that she had to talk with Thesan about reducing her surgical procedures so she could keep a clear head.

She hated having to do that, not wanting to disappoint her boss just after she reached her attending level earlier that year. But Thesan took it in stride, helping to arrange her schedule to fit what she was comfortable doing and ensuring she had time to take proper meal breaks and rest when she needed it. He rearranged schedules and let her take on leading the resident interns full-time, allowing her to take some of the stress off by guiding them through procedures and running the ER.

He had come into her hospital room after she collapsed to check on her, and she knew she couldn’t keep it from him after what had happened in the operating room. Her boss had been ecstatic, congratulating them both.

It had been about a month since they found out they were pregnant, and she was now sitting at around seven and a half weeks along. She and Azriel decided to keep the news to themselves until she reached week twelve, just to play it safe, and Elain wished she could say they had been successful in their endeavors. But, her boss knew, and Viviane knew. The Moonbeam twins found out two weeks ago when she and Fenrys had exited the elevator of their building and Connall’s breakfast sandwich sent her hurdling for the nearest trashcan. Fen had been quick to slide her hair back, holding it above her head as she heaved. Stepping off the elevator a few minutes later, a startled and confused Azriel took in the sight of Connall and then heard her retching. He instantly was at her side, taking her hair from Fenrys, and running his hand down her back.

“What is in that sandwich,” he demanded.

Blind-sighted, Con rambled out ingredients. “Bacon, cheese, spinach, and egg.”

Elain gagged at the word egg, her stomach violently rolling from the name. “Get rid of it,” she moaned, still leaning into the disgusting garbage.

The dark-haired twin had swallowed the remains of his meal in three large bites.

It took effort to push herself off the trash bin, falling into the comforting embrace of Az’s strong arms that he wrapped around her.

He cupped the side of her face, tucking her under his chin, and let her thumb swoop over the apple of her cheek, the touch gentle and soothing. “Do you want your tea,” he murmured, lips pressing into her hair.

Unable to voice it answer, she dipped her chin.

Fenrys was already on the ground before them, pulling her coffee mug from her bag that she dropped and handing it to Azriel.

Her husband brought the mug up to her lips and allowed her to sip, the peppermint hitting her stomach and calming the raging sea. His hazel eyes glanced at her, a question simmering in them, and read the answer she didn’t even need to speak. “Elain’s pregnant,” he told the twins. “It’s still very early and we’re trying to keep it close to the chest for now, but please don’t bring eggs anywhere near her.”

Her body shuddered at that damn word again, but she managed to gain enough strength to pull herself from Azriel’s arms as she faced the Moonbeam brothers. “Sorry about that,” she said and felt her husband tense as she apologized for being sick. He’d been wildly adamant that she not apologize for the nausea, the cravings, or anything else she needed of him or anyone else. Not after having a meltdown because he went and got her something she asked for, only to start craving something else when he was out and feeling utterly ridiculous about it.

Connall seemed to snap from his shock first. “Congratulations to you both. And I apologize for the sandwich. I won’t bring anything around that has—”

“Please don’t say the word or I might hurl again,” she interrupted, fingertips touching her mouth like she’d hold it back. Fuck, even just the name of it sent her body quaking from the queasiness.

Fen chuckled. “Noted. Is there anything else that sets you off we should be made aware of?”

She shook her head no. “Nothing else that I know of yet.”

He nodded, a charming smile spreading his lips. “Let us know if anything changes. And congratulations on the pregnancy. I’m so happy for you both.”

And she could see it, the joy radiating on both of their faces. It made her heart swell with love for the two men who would likely become Uncle Fen and Uncle Con to their child.

The door opening caught her attention, pulling her from her reverie, and she met the gaze of the nurse who’d come to collect her. Elain glanced back at the elevator, waiting for her husband to show up. He was running late—something that was so very unlike him, which only added to her anxiety. She returned her attention to the nurse. “Can you give him another couple of minutes?”

It wasn’t the first time she asked to delay her appointment and knew it couldn’t continue much longer.

The nurse—Maria as her name badge read—gave her a sad smile. “We really can’t delay much longer. There are a few appointments behind you.”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Elain practically begged.

Maria hedged, shuffling from foot to foot, uncomfortable by the request, but was saved from having to deny her by the elevator door sliding open and Azriel rushing out.

He was at her side instantly, taking her arm to help her stand as if she couldn’t do it herself. Elain had to remind him on occasion that she was not yet showing and could still move about the house without his assistance. “I’m so sorry I’m late. There was an accident downtown and I got caught right in the middle of traffic. I’ll leave a half hour earlier next time.” He leaned down to brush his lips to her cheek.

His presence immediately calmed her and she leaned into his touch.

Azriel, always in tune with her feelings, didn’t miss how she settled into him as they followed the nurse back, his arm slinking around her waist so he could touch his mouth to her ear. “Are you all right?” he asked her. Nothing ever got by him.

She nodded but knew he hadn’t bought it. Still, he let it slide, caressing her arm in a soothing gesture. The nurse took all her vitals and then handed her a gown to change into before the doctor arrived. Az helped her slip it on, tying the strings together for her before assisting her onto the table.

“You’re nervous,” he commented now that they were alone.

Elain blew out a breath. “A bit.”

He swept his thumb over her cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know to be honest. Just want to make sure everything is growing healthy in there,” she said, patting her still-flat stomach. “No surprises.”

Az chuckled, kissing her temple. “I have no doubts that we have a healthy baby, love. Try not to fret.” His words seemed to calm her as she relaxed back onto the table.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of her doctor and she took a moment to introduce herself to her husband, shaking his hand.

“Okay, let’s get started. Elain, if you wouldn’t mind putting your feet into the stirrups.”

She took out the ultrasound wand, spreading lube on the tip, and Elain couldn’t help but smile at her husband’s confused face.

“All right, my dear. You should feel a little pressure,” her doctor said.

“I’m sorry, but I thought she was getting an ultrasound. What is that?” Azriel questioned.

Elain snorted lightly. “Az, it’s a transvaginal ultrasound. It goes inside, not on my belly.”

His eyes widened. “Well, the three baby books I’ve read didn’t discuss the differences in ultrasound types.”

Doctor Chen raised her brows. “You’ve read three baby books already?”

He shrugged. “I just like to be prepared.”

“You’re going to be a great father.”

The comment seemed to startle her husband. “Just because I’ve read a few books?”

Chen’s lips turned up at the corner. “Mr. Archeron-Knight, I can barely get most fathers to read one, let alone three. And before she’s even through the first trimester. Believe me when I say that I can tell who’s going to be well-adjusted to handling fatherhood.” Giving him a wink, she slipped the wand inside, making Elain’s grip on Azriel’s hand tighten slightly.

“All right, here we are,” Doctor Chen said, clicking a few buttons on the keyboard to bring up the monitor. A pitter-patter sound filled the air as she located the baby’s heartbeat.

Tears sprung into her eyes as that beautiful, perfect, innocent noise washed over her and she glanced up at her husband to see him sharing the same look as her. He leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips, the special moment between them growing with the touch of his mouth against hers.

“And here is your baby,” Chen announced, pointing to a little blip on the screen.

Elain’s dark gaze stared at that spot on the screen, feeling like her heart was about to burst with happiness. But when her eyes slid to her doctor, seeing the furrow in her brow, that joy dropped like a rock in her stomach.

Her doctor let out a small noise of contemplation, enough to catch Azriel’s attention. “What is it?” he asked, voice laced with demand and worry.

A few clicks on her keyboard had the screen adjusting, zooming out just slightly. She repositioned the wand inside of her, making her body tense. “Well, I think we should discuss multiple births. Because that right there,” she said, pointing to another blip on the screen, “is a second fetus.” She clicked a button again and two very distinct heartbeats surrounded them. Chen turned to look at them with a smile. “You’re having twins.”

If Elain thought her heart was racing before, it was absolutely pounding now, the sound rushing in her ears. Because there was just no way, no way, right? Twins? Twins! Her head swiveled to look up at her husband. “You and your fucking superseed!” she snarled.

“Elain!” Azriel chastised, looking torn between being guilty of impregnating her with two kids and amused about her foul language in front of the doctor. Mostly the latter.

Chen just laughed. “I’ve told many expecting parents they’re having twins over the years, but that was, by far, the best reaction I’ve ever seen.”

She had the decency to at least look embarrassed as she apologized to her doctor for her outburst, but she just waved her off.

After snapping a few pictures, she pulled the wand out, cleaned her up, and set the printed sonogram photos on the counter for them. “Everything looks good, Elain. You’re growing at an optimum level. I’ll go ahead and prescribe you some anti-nausea medicine that you can take in the morning and before bed for as long as you need it. Unless there are any concerns, you’re free to get dressed. The nurse at the front will schedule you for your next appointment.”

The door clicked shut softly behind her as she left and Elain felt the silence between her and Azriel like a weight on her chest.

He helped her sit up, but before she could slide off the table, he stepped in front of her, finger hooking under her chin to force her gaze to his. “Hey,” he said softly like he was afraid anything louder might startle her. “El, love, I know this is scary, but we can do this.”

“Twins, Azriel. Two kids. As in one whole being more than we even were planning for.”

His mouth quirked up at her zealous explanation. “I’m well aware of how twins work, baby.”

She glared at him for the comment.

But he ignored it, leaning down to capture her mouth in a sweet kiss. “Twins mean two beautiful children of our own. Twins mean twice the amount of love we will have. Twice the amount of joy they will be bringing into our lives. If there is anyone who can take on the challenge of having twins, it’s us. Don’t ever doubt that.”

His words settled inside of her, soothing the jagged worries of her heart into something perfectly beautiful. His confidence, his strength…it was exactly what she needed at that moment and he knew it.

Elain let out a heavy breath. “You’re changing all the diapers.”

He barked out a laugh, folding her into his arms. “I’m okay with that.”

~~~

They decided to wait until she reached the fifteen-week mark before they told their family the news. Azriel was ready to burst at week nine, but she managed to hold him off until now with just a little bit of persuasion.

A surprise to both of them was when Elain didn’t have her head in the toilet, she was horny as fuck. Azriel was running hard to keep up with her impressive sex drive. And that was saying something.

He reached out and took her hand across the center console, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Are you nervous?” he asked, bringing the back of her palm to his lips.

She glanced at him, a soft smile pulling at her mouth. “No. I’m excited. I want to tell everyone about them.” Her hand rubbed over her swollen belly. Swollen was probably the best way to describe her appearance. Truthfully, she looked like she indulged in a very large, carb-based meal of pasta and was extremely bloated from it. Which, to be fair, with Azriel’s amazing skills in the kitchen, it was a fair assessment.

Elain opened her purse and slipped out the sonogram she had a few days before. The one that told them what they were having. Her eyes welled up with tears as her fingers stroked the black-and-white image. She was so blissfully happy. “I’m glad that they’re healthy. That was all I cared about.”

Az kissed the backside of her palm again. “Me too. And I’m happy they’ll be close to Sutton’s age so they can grow up together.”

“Do you think Feyre and Rhys will start thinking about having kids?” she asked, curious if he thought their other siblings might be feeling a touch of the baby fever.

He shrugged. “If they weren’t talking about it before, I’d say they will be now. Rhys has been wanting kids since practically in high school. He always wanted to be a father; better than his, though he wasn’t anything compared to mine.” The words hung between them for a minute before he asked her, “Do you have concerns about me becoming my father?” His voice dropped to a near whisper. Almost as if he were afraid of her answer.

Elain looked at him in shock. “Azriel, gods no. I know exactly the kind of father you’ll be, and it will not even remotely look like what you were given.”

His lips quirked up at the corner. “Yeah? And what kind of a father do you think I’ll be?”

She twisted in her seat to face him better. “You’re going to be the most devoted father because you’re already the most devoted husband. You’ll dote on those kids until they never have a wish or dream unfulfilled. You will love them fiercely—I mean, you already do and they’re still in my stomach,” she giggled lightly, rubbing her belly. “They are going to be the most spoiled children.”

At that, he laughed. “I can’t say you’re wrong. I don’t think I will be able to say ‘no’ to them at all.”

“Azriel, you can’t even tell me no,” she deadpanned.

“It’s just not in my vocabulary when it comes to you.”

Elain shook her head, eyes rolling as she twisted back in her seat to face forward again. She could see the restaurant down the street where they were meeting their siblings for lunch to tell them the news. “Well, I’m not going to take on the mean parent role just because you can’t say no.” She fiddled with her purse, sliding the image back inside. “We may need to find an alternative—” Screeching tires caught her attention and then she screamed, “Azriel! Watch out!”

The car lurched, sending her head sideways to slam against the side window. The last thing she heard was shattering glass as another car collided with them before everything went dark.

~~~~~

Azriel’s eyes blinked open, ears ringing loud enough to make him wince. His body ached across his chest and waist from the seat belt and as he shifted himself, he could tell nothing was seriously injured. Thankfully. He looked over at his wife, fear locking his heart in a deadly force. “Elain,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

Her head lay against the back of the seat, lulled to the side. She had a gash on her forehead, blood dribbling down her temple, and most of her right arm was scratched up from the shattered glass.

He tried to unbuckle his belt, but the damn thing was stuck. Pulling the knife Ruhn had gotten him from his pocket, he cut the fabric, releasing him, then reached over and did the same to Elain’s belt. A scarred hand slid to her cheek, cupping it gently, and then moved down to her throat, searching for his worst nightmare.

The relief he felt when her heartbeat pattered against his fingertips was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. “Elain,” he tried again, moving his palm back to her face. “Elain, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.” His tone took on a desperate sound as he willed her to wake.

Movement caught his eye, the sound of tires crunching on glass flooded him and he looked out the window to see the car that hit them, pulling back and fleeing. “Motherfucker,” he cursed, realizing that this was an intended accident. He had managed to jerk the wheel so Elain didn’t take the brunt of the impact, but it still slammed into the back door, shattering all the windows on her side.

A burning rage built in his gut, one that could not—would not—be stifled without blood. Whoever ordered this hit…

They were as good as dead.

Azriel refocused on his wife, fingers sweeping over her skin. He shoved that wrath building inside of him down until it was a flickering ember, something for him to let rage once he knew she was okay. “Elain, come on. Open your eyes for me.” He gently tapped her cheek, trying to get her to look at him. “Please, love. I need you to open your eyes. Elain.”

A groan passed through her lips, sending tears of relief cascading over his cheeks as her eyelids began fluttering.

“El, baby,” he cried, swooping his thumb across her smooth skin. He collected the soft sounds coming from her parted lips like precious gems, thanking every god for each one.

“Az.” Her voice cracked on his name. “What happened?” she asked, still coming into consciousness.

He shuffled closer, leaning over the center console to kiss her temple with a gentleness he reserved only for her. “We were in an accident, love. I need you to stay still until help gets here.” He felt her pulse kick up under his palm.

Elain’s breathing turned short. “Azriel…” her voice shook in fear. “Az, the babies.”

His heart wrenched, hoping and praying that everything was all right. After all that they had been through, he didn’t think he could handle the world taking something else away from her. From them. But despite his fear, he remained calm, knowing she needed to as well. “Everything is going to be okay,” he promised. “I hear the sirens, love. Help is almost here.”

The words didn’t seem to abate her as she continued to shake. “Please,” she cried, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes and dribbling down her cheeks. “Check if I’m bleeding.”

Azriel knew she needed to know—would not breathe steadily until she did. He placed his hand on the inside of her thigh, sliding up until he reached her panties. Feeling her for any sort of wetness. Any stickiness that would confirm to him there was blood.

She was dry.

There weren’t words to describe how thankful he felt for that confirmation. “No blood,” he told her, pulling his hand out from underneath her dress to show her his clean fingers.

Elain released a sob, her tense body relaxing slightly.

He shushed her, kissing her temple again. “You’re okay,” he murmured, wanting to do everything in his power to reassure her. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Two firetrucks pulling up snagged his attention, as he continued to stroke her cheek soothingly.

“Sir, are you both okay?” one of the responders asked as he approached his side of the car.

He glanced at the man. “We’re conscious but she needs to be looked at.”

The guy rapped his knuckles on the top of the car. “We’ll get you out in a second—”

“Her first,” he told him in a tone that brooked no room for argument.

Another firefighter moved towards his wife’s window. “Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” she asked.

“Elain,” his wife answered.

“Are you in any pain?”

“My head hurts a bit.” Those doe eyes looked at the other woman. “I’m pregnant.”

She turned her head and yelled, “Get me the jaws!” Looking back at Elain, she reached in and wrapped a C-collar around her neck. “How far along are you?”

“Fifteen weeks.”

A nod. “All right, Elain. We’ll have you out in a jiffy and get you over to the hospital to have your baby checked out.”

Neither of them bothered to correct her on the number of babies. It wasn’t relevant, only that they needed to get her out. Once the door was opened, they began moving her onto a backboard. Azriel wrenched the driver’s side open, wanting to get to her as quickly as possible.

“Sir! You need to be checked by the paramedic,” somebody called out but he ignored them, rounding the vehicle to where Elain was being placed on a stretcher. Just before he reached her, another voice called his name—one he couldn’t ignore. He turned, finding Cassian running over to him, flashing a badge to one of the firefighters to get past him. Rhys, Feyre, and Nesta stood just beyond the scene at their cars, all watching his wife being checked out.

“What the hell happened?” Cassian demanded, eyes flitting over to where Elain was being hauled towards an ambulance.

“Hit and run. Fucker took off after T-boning us,” he snarled, tone murderous. They would not get away with this. Not with his pregnant wife in the car with him. Az glanced up and saw the street cameras, angled just right to have caught the entire accident. “Cash, get me the film from that camera,” he indicated with a nod of his head before swiveling on his feet and prowling toward his wife.

Cassian kept stride with him, took in the responders on the scene, and lowered his voice to not be overheard. “Az, the police will investigate. Just let them do their job.”

Azriel whirled on his brother. “You either get me that tape, Cassian, or I’ll get it my way. Either option, I will find out who did this to her.” There was no arguing when he stepped into this role. This wasn’t a brother asking for a favor. This was the head of the Velaris Mob Boss demanding it.

His voice turned deadly, taking on the dangerous threat he used to get what he wanted.

When it looked like his brother was about to argue, the female firefighter shouted, “Victim is fifteen weeks pregnant. She needs to be checked out by a doctor.”

Elain called Az’s name and he turned, striding towards her but not before he caught how Cassian’s face paled. Or the shocked looks from their siblings. Well, that’s one way to find out, he thought to himself as he reached his wife’s side and took her hand.

She clutched his fingers, her face still scrunched with worry. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, placing a kiss on her forehead before they loaded her into the back of the ambulance. Az climbed in after, sitting down on the bench and gripping her hand once more. He glanced back out the door and found Cassian standing there.

“I’ll get you that tape,” he said quietly; fierce determination blazed in his hazel eyes to help his brother wreak havoc over the person who went after his pregnant wife. Only Cassian could understand the fear of something like this, having already gone through a pregnancy with Nesta. Without another word, he shut the doors to the ambulance.

Elain looked up at him, his name falling from her lips. He brushed a thumb over her forehead. “Everything is going to be fine, love. Just try to relax.” It was empty words, they knew that. Knew neither of them would settle until they heard both of those heartbeats on a monitor.

He just hoped he was holding it together enough for her until they could confirm she was still pregnant.

And may God have mercy on the fucker who caused this, if she wasn’t.

~~~

They ushered Elain into a private room, hooking her up to a fetal monitor. The doctor moved quickly, shoving her dress up to reveal her bare stomach while a nurse covered her hips with a blanket.

She flinched slightly when the cold gel was applied to her skin and Azriel brought her fingers to his lips, kissing her across the backside of her knuckles.

It was like the world held its breath as they searched for those two heartbeats.

“Baby number one looks good,” the doctor said, clicking a button and sending the hummingbird’s wing pattern of a heartbeat into the room.

Elain squeezed his hand, a soft sound passing between her lips in relief.  

The wand moved on her belly, searching for their other little one. “And, there they are. Hiding behind their sibling.”

When the second heartbeat reached their ears, Elain twisted, sobbing into Az’s chest with utter joy. He wasn’t very far behind her, letting tears of relief slip from his eyes as he cradled her against his torso. His hand rubbed her shoulder, lips pressing to the crown of her head, offering comfort to her through his presence and touch.

The doctor cleaned her off, smiling at the two of them. “Everything looks good on the monitor,” she started after giving them a moment. “We’ll keep you here for another hour or so just to be safe before we discharge you. If you have any bleeding in the next few days, come in right away.”

Elain seemed unable to answer, so he did it for her. “We will, thank you, doctor.”

“There also appears to be a group of people waiting for you guys in the lobby. Would you like me to send them in or give them a message?”

He crouched, putting himself at her eye level, wanting Elain to make the decision. Az cupped her cheek, thumb brushing away the tears under her eyes. “Love, do you want to see the family now?” he asked, voice low.

She sniffed, eyes still flooded with silver. The subtle shake of her head told him she wasn’t quite ready for the company yet.

Azriel rose, perching himself on the edge of her bed, and tucked her back into his chest. “Can you tell them that we’re okay, and I’ll come to get them when we’re ready for visitors?”

“Of course. Page the nurse if you need anything.” Without another word, she slipped from the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Elain fisted his shirt, taking in his cedar and mist scent deep into her lungs. He gave her whatever time she needed, letting her get herself together. “I was so scared,” she whispered, burying her face further into his embrace.

Azriel was grateful that she seemed to find comfort in him, in his touch, his scent. He held her tighter against him, murmuring, “Me too.”

She held onto him for a few more precious moments before pulling back to look up at his face. “I didn’t see the other car when they pulled me out.” Her brows furrowed as she tried to put the pieces together. “Were we in a hit and run?”

“Yes,” he said, brushing his thumb back and forth over her cheek.

Her eyes flicked between his. “Do you think we were targeted?”

He wouldn’t lie to her—refused to, but also didn’t want her to be even more frightened than she already was. “I do.” Az saw that kid look directly at him, his eyes widening in understanding that he was, in fact, not dead, before taking off from the scene. He didn’t recognize him, but if he had to place a bet, he’d say it was one of Frankie’s lower levels who crossed to Elias’s side.

Az didn’t think either of his brothers would call a hit like that. Middle of the day, busy street. It wasn’t their style. But Elias was careless, greedy, and a poor decision-maker. He sighed, brushing his lips to her forehead. “The kid looked me dead in the eye before leaving. He was scared that I was still alive.”

“How old do you think he was?” Elain asked.

“I’d say we have at least a decade on him. Seventeen, maybe eighteen.”

“So, just a kid then.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You say that like it’s excusable.”

She shook her head. “I’m not excusing what he did, but we both know how young kids are trapped into joining those gangs. Through manipulation and fear. There’s a reason you won’t allow anyone that young to be brought in, Az, and you know it. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb to question if it was his idea or he was put up to it.”

His lips quirked up as she spoke like a true Mob queen. “If you had to guess who would put him up to it—”

“Elias, no doubt. We both know he’s been itching to strike at us since he showed up at the hospital. And you said he was trying to recruit kids from Frankie. Perhaps he offered this kid a way out from under Illyrian rule.”

“There is only one way out from Frankie’s Mob,” he told her, letting the words hang heavily between them.

Elain let out a deep breath. “I know. Either way, he’s dead. Elias is likely to kill him for failing, or Frankie and Nick will for attempting to leave.”

It floored him to just how similar her train of thought was to his. She observed and listened and picked up on every single thread laid down. Understood all of the connections and bloodshed as if she’d been a part of it her whole life. He couldn’t say that the revelation was thrilling, but it also made his chest ache. Az never wanted her to be so in tune with his world. Didn’t want her to have to think about the worst-case scenarios and determine ways around them. But here she was, doing just that and not shying away from it.

To think he couldn’t love her any more than he already did.

“I have to agree with your assessment. Elias will not get away with this; with what he’s done to you.”

She didn’t balk at the threat in his tone, simply took his hand in hers and squeezed. “Despite what he’s done, is going after him the best idea? Things could escalate.”

“We can’t let this go without repercussions, love. Others will hear about this and wait to see how I respond. If it’s not a show of force, they’ll think I’ve gone lax and more will come. I need to be aggressive with my actions.”

It looked like she wanted to argue some more, but decided against it, bringing his hand up to her mouth to kiss his scars. “Do you want to go get the others now? I’m ready to see them.”

He smiled down at her, cupping her cheek one more time. “I’ll be right back.” Az pressed his lips to her forehead before he slipped from the room, knowing that that conversation was far from over. But he’d let it go for now. She had been through enough today without him pushing her on it. But this was one thing he would not, could not budge on. Not if he didn’t want to keep her safe. Especially now with their growing family.

Azriel wasn’t even to the edge of the lobby when Nesta shot out of her chair.

“Is she all right?” his sister asked, face drawn with worry.

His eyes glanced to Cassian behind her, cradling a sleeping Sutton in his large arm, Feyre and Rhys next to him. “She’s fine,” he told them, sensing their relief. “They want to keep her here another hour or so, just to be safe, but you guys are welcome to come back with me if you’d like.”

“Does she want company?” Feyre asked, edging to her eldest sister’s side. “We don’t want to intrude—”

“She asked for you all. No intrusion,” Az interrupted her.

Cassian swallowed, his eyes looking down at the small thing in the crook of his elbow. “You know we all heard the firefighter…is the baby okay?”

He had a feeling one of them would ask, but he wanted to make sure Elain was present for it. So, he said instead, “Everyone is fine. We can talk more in her room.” Turning on his heel, he headed back toward Elain’s private room, knowing they’d follow him closely.

Opening the door, he caught Elain looking intently out the window, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. “Love,” he called out to her, making her snap out of her reverie and turn to face him. “Our siblings are here.”

Her smile lit up his entire chest, despite the current circumstances. Gods, she was radiant when she smiled at him like that.

He held the door open, letting their family shuffle in. Nesta and Feyre made a beeline right to either side of her, gripping her in a firm hug.

“Are you all right?” Nesta asked again, cupping her cheeks in her palms.

Elain laughed slightly. “Yes, I’m fine.” Her eyes landed on his at the foot of her bed and he nodded at her, answering her silent question. One small hand swept down over the slight swell of her belly. “We’re all fine,” she added, a bit more shyly.

“I can’t believe you two are pregnant already,” Rhys stated, resting a palm on her lower leg.

Az laughed. “Strong swimmers,” he boasted.

“Asshole,” Cassian muttered. It wasn’t a secret that he and Nesta had struggled a bit to get pregnant. His wife was, apparently, just incredibly fertile.

Elain just shook her head, eyes rolling at the exchange.

“How far along are you?” Feyre asked, interrupting what she knew was going to be another ridiculous argument.

“Fifteen weeks. Or just over,” she answered.

Nesta blinked in surprise. “Do you know what you’re having?”

Her lips quirked up in the corner as she eyed him. “A boy.”

Their family erupted into congratulatory shouts for them both, grabbing them into hugs. Az waited until they quieted down before announcing, “And a girl.”

All four heads swiveled to him.

Silence descended upon their family for a few tense moments before Rhys finally demanded, “Explain!”

“We’re having a boy and a girl.”

He could see the lightbulbs going off above their heads. It was rather humorous to watch them connect the dots.

“You’re having twins?” Cassian breathed, eyes wide as saucers.

Elain chuckled at their expense. “Yes, my husband infested me with his superseed for two babies.”

Azriel barked out a laugh. “You’re one to talk miss fertile as fuck.”

Their family erupted into a fit of hysterics at the exchange and that brought the largest smile to his face. Elain caught his grin, offering him one of her own. Fuck, he loved her so damn much and he couldn’t wait to have his two little ones welcomed into such a loving family.

He still had to handle Elias, still needed to confirm who else was involved in the hit on them, but he pushed that aside and focused on this moment with his pregnant wife and their siblings. Az would get his revenge…just not today.

~~~~~

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[snowbaamgyu]

Wanting to leave Everland

TXT was having a really good time at Everland, the Amazon ride was amazing and hilarious except for Taehyun and Beomgyu, they ended up complaining about how they got wet, and how could we forget about their time seeing animals, specially that panda, the tigers and lions, everything was simply just right.

The food also was really good, when they finished eating they walked around the amusement park, deciding on what ride they could go on, Kai was a little nervous, he wasn't that good at roller coasters or rides that made him feel all that adrenaline, he ended up getting nauseous and most of the times, throwing up in a trashcan if he was lucky enough to make it to one, if not he ended up puking between his legs and on the floor.

They decided to go on a roller coaster first, Kai was the only one who had to go with no one by his side, he tried to keep his composure because of the cameras rolling, even when MOAs knew about how he wasn't good at rides.

Beomgyu was a little nervous too, because they had just eaten and got on a roller coaster right when they just finished? Soobin noticed, asked Beomgyu if he was alright, the younger replying "My stomach is not that good" if he wanted to get down it was impossible now, the seats were locked and secured.

The whole ride Kai kept a straight face even though his insides were screaming at him, his stomach specially, his heart beating hard on his ears as he quietly tried to regulate his breathing, and smiled when everyone got off, Beomgyu keeping an eye on him knowing about Kai's fear of rides.

When the hyungs and Taehyun wanted to go on another ride Beomgyu decided to stay with Kai just watching, both of them feeling queasy not wanting to upset their stomachs more.

Yeonjun also complained about getting dizzy, and if he got on another ride he would throw up, but still went for it, Taehyun this time wanted to just watch so it was just Soobin and Yeonjun going on that rotating ride, Kai didn't want to look like a coward so he tapped Soobin on the shoulder and told him "I'm riding with you guys too" with a confident tone.

The hyungs were proud of their maknae, so they sat down and waited for the game to start.

Kai's stomach still swirling around and gurgling a bit, it was the nerves kicking in.

Yeonjun asked him if he was alright, the answer was no, but he nodded anyway.

"Don't be surprised if I puke" Kai said as joke but also as a warning, he couldn't say it serious because MOAs should enjoy this episode and not get worried.

"If you puke you should do it to your left then" Soobin followed his joke, a bit worried but not too much.

"Yeah I should turn my head and puke at my left" Kai didn't know how long would that continue to be just a joke as the game started and it was spinning and spinning and spinning and moving and at some point it was too much, he wanted to get off of that game and was relieved when it seemed to stop, only for it to start again with the motion.

Kai was really going to throw up, there wasn't anything he could do once the motion sickness started, he had to endure it until he could turn off his mic and all the cameras gave him some privacy, even Taehyun was filming him, he couldn't throw up there.

The ride stopped, he walked a little behind the other two and waited for the cameras to stop, to rip off his mic and go to the nearest bathroom to ease some of the nausea away.

The other boys stood there for a while a bit shocked, they thought Kai took the game well but it seemed it got the best of him, some of the staff members went behind him to make sure he was alright and if they needed to wrap up the recordings.

Beomgyu ran behind all of them to be with Kai and also check on him, and when he got there his heart clenched a little.

Kai was slumped over a toilet, gripping the sides of it as his body heaved once again, his stomach squeezing so hard it sent up more and more of the barely digested food they had before they decided to go on those rides tasting gross the second time it passed through his throat.

Beomgyu rubbed his back, which stimulated him to continue with the gaging, and when he started coughing Beomgyu patted his back, it had the same effect it had on babies because a last burp brought the remaining vomit he had to expel.

Now he was just exhausted, Beomgyu still with him now cleaning his mouth and chin with some toilet paper and fixing his hair.

"It's okay Kai, you did well, you were so brave and we are really proud of you, it's a little sad you had to end up like this but we can leave now, I think we have enough footage".

No, Kai didn't want to leave just yet, his hyungs had to enjoy a little bit more of the park.

"It's alright hyung, I'll rest for a bit and we can go on another ride, a calm one this time please" Kai stood up, Beomgyu still trailing behind him as he went to wash his hands and mouth.

"Boys, do you need anything?" their manager poked his head to see what was going on. "A little break, I'm okay to continue"

They waited for Kai's stomach to settle down, as he drank water his hyungs distracted him and stood by his side.

"One more ride and some food, aaand that's it, the filming is done, is that okay?" At the mention of food now that his stomach was feeling okay Kai felt a bit hungry, he had in fact, emptied his stomach.

"Yeah it sounds good, let's go".

They got on the Viking, Kai was holding tight to the safety bar and had his head down, his eyes closed, like that he couldn't feel any of the movement.

As the game came to an end he could hear Beomgyu say "Kai are you okay? It's okay the game is over"

They headed to the restaurant, everyone ordered what they wanted to eat and said the final comments, Kai ate slowly, feeling totally better, after all he had a great day with his hyungs, even the staff who also rode the games with them.

Yeah, it was a great day.

[dontxnumber]

Think about a sickie being so weak and tired they can barely keep themselves awake, constantly drifting in and out of consciousness

Every time they wake up they feel worse. Maybe it started as them just trying to sleep off a small headache, but as times goes on is becomes clear something is really wrong

The first time, they wake up covered in sweat, it feels like their skin is on fire. They're probably running a fever, their whole body hurts. They wonder if a shower would help, they feel gross and clammy. It really does sound nice, but they feel so weak they can't bring themselves to at least try to get up, the ache in their muscles tells them it's not worth the effort

They second time they wake up their throat is dry and feels like it's been rubbed with sandpaper. Some water, or maybe tea would definitely do them some good. A groan scapes their lips just thinking about how far away the kitchen is. They fidget uncomfortably at the feeling of the blankets sticking to their skin, and they can only whimper at the way each breath feels like it's raking over their throat. They feel so bad, soon exhaustion takes over their body as they fall asleep again

They don't manage to sleep much, getting woken up by a cramp not long after. Great, guess their stomach joined the party too. They squirm a bit as they place a hand on their belly, feeling it shift under their fingers

Their stomach makes a loud gurgling sound, and they can't help but whimper as a hiccup makes their whole body jolt. They feel so so sick, they hiccup again, wetter this time, and they feel like there's lava burning at the back of their throat

Sleep doesn't come so easy this time, they spend a long time writhing in bed, alternating between kicking off the covers when the fever makes them feel like they're melting, and pulling them back on not long after, shivering from head to toe, teeth chattering from the cold

Acid reflux is not helping their sore throat at all, and soon they start coughing too. God, they really wish they had a glass of water to somehow calm the painful itch on their throat

The hiccups only help to increase the pain on their upset stomach, curling into a ball and pressing their hand deeper into their belly each time it cramps. Their stomach is killing them, and the heating pad is in their room, only a few steps away, but they're in no condition to get up rn, the thought alone is enough to make them tear up

They don't remember falling asleep, but they wake up feeling more nauseous than they ever felt in their entire life, and so so dizzy, almost like if they were on a boat in the middle of a storm, everything seems to be moving

They curl into a ball seeking both warmth and relief from the pain. They're shivering all over, it seems like they kicked the covers off the bed at some point, so now they just get added to the list of things that would really help them if only they had the strength to reach for them

They get shaken from their thoughts when a wet burp pushes it's way past their lips, and they whimper, pressing their face to the mattress.

They just pray their roommate gets home soon, cause they doubt they'd manage to at least lean over the edge of the bed when they inevitably start puking

They're lucky enough to fall asleep again, scaping from their misery for a while. Or maybe they're not so lucky, the next time they open their eyes they do it mid heave. Hot vomit splashing all over their bed, their clothes, clinging to their face.

Their stomach gurgles loudly, and they feel the back of their throat spasming. They need to get up *now*, their stomach is clearly not done, they need to get to the bathroom, or at least grab a trashcan. There's puke all over their hair, maybe they should aim for the bathroom and take a bath too. Fuck, the bedsheets are covered in vomit, they can't sleep there.

The thought of laying on a puddle of their own vomit is enough to make them gag again, burning liquid rushing up their throat and out of their mouth and nose. They cough and actually try to get up, weakly proping themselves up on shaky arms. Everything seems so sway in front of their eyes and they heave again, loud and violent. The force of it is enough to make them land on the mattress again.

All they manage to do is whimper, as tears start rolling down their cheeks. They feel so sick, their throat is on fire and breathing hurts, their head feels like it's gonna explode, their stomach won't stop cramping and somehow they feel dizzy even though they're laying down. They're sure their fever has gone up, everything hurts so much

Their quiet cries soon turn into desperate sobs as they catch a glimpse of the clock on their nightstand. They have at least a few more hours before their roommate gets home

They manage to roll over so at least they're not lying directly on their vomit, and curled up like that they cry themselves to sleep, hoping that their roommate would be there the next time they wake up

[caspersickfanfics]

Late Arrival Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 Here

This was written to fill @monthofsick day 14: Can't Keep Anything Down

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, fever, nightmare mention, slight anxiety, bad jokes

Anon asked:

Could I make a request for can’t keep anything down with sick Cyno? I feel like Tighnari would try really hard to get him to eat or stay hydrated or try some home remedies but…Cynos stomach just can’t handle it right now…

Tighnari wakes, warm and cozy, curled up against Cyno, only because of his alarm. There’s a moment of disorientation, confusion because he isn’t in his own bed or even in his own home. He doesn’t often use an alarm, instead rising with the birds and the sun. There’s no birdsong, here. Only background noise from the city, and Cyno’s labored breathing.

The sound brings Tighnari both clarity and concern. He remembers why he set the alarm while in the process of blearily shutting it off. With heavy limbs, he stumbles around the place until he manages to grab a glass of water and some medicine from his own belongings, which still rest in a messy pile near the door.

When he returns to the bedroom, he hesitates. He loathes to disrupt Cyno’s rest. If he ignores the rattle in the his airways, the sweat on his temples, and the way his whole body occasionally shivers, the matra looks peaceful. It’s reassuring to see him relaxed to this degree. Outside of playing cards and eating meals, the two of them often spend their precious little time together snuggling or napping for this very reason. With the intensity of their jobs, they both struggle to unwind. For Tighnari, at least, there’s something about watching his partner sleep that helps rebuild a sense of safety. He can convince himself that nothing bad will happen to either of them when they’re wrapped up in blankets together, secure enough to close their eyes and sometimes, now, even dream.

Still, the last thing Tighnari wants is to let his sentimentality get in the way of what is necessary. Cyno is a light sleeper - that he slept through the alarm is moderately disquieting - so Tighnari traces the soft lines of the sick man’s face with a hovering touch and scratches his head. He barely stirs.

“Cyno,” Tighnari speaks quietly, absently teasing white hair. The fever has risen. His voice is an odd pitch and louder than he intended when he speaks again. “Hey, Cyno. Wake up.”

There’s an incoherent mumble, muffled by blanket. Tighnari peels layers of off him and Cyno makes a noise of distaste.

“I know.” A slight note of regret shimmers in the air, but apology loses in the war against pragmatism, at least for Tighnari. “We need to get your fever down.”

“’s too cold,” the matra slurs. His hands grasp at the air blindly, no doubt seeking the covers.

Tighnari nods and helps him to sit up. “Chills,” he explains. “From the fever.” He mixes the medicine in - a natural herbal powder that’s meant to lower and stabilize body temperature - before handing the glass over. “This might taste a bit odd, but it should help. Do you think you can keep medicine down right now?”

Cyno nods, looking suspiciously more determined than he does confident. His hands shake as he takes the glass, so Tighnari helps guide it to his lips. “Drink slowly. Just a few sips is enough.”

“A few sips” is all it takes for Cyno to clamp his mouth tightly shut. His throat bobs threateningly and he leans back, eyes closed. He’s clearly trying to keep his stomach under control, but he’s so feverish that he can hardly hold his head up.

“Breathe in through your nose. Slowly,” Tighnari instructs. He reaches for the trashcan beside the bed and pulls it close. When Cyno lurches forward with an aborted heave, tears escaping out of the corners of his eyes, Tighnari sighs and lifts the bin onto the bed.

“It’s okay, Cyno.” He brushes sweaty hair away from his partner’s face. Cyno shakes his head and Tighnari can’t help but smile fondly. Stubborn as usual. Sure enough, though, it doesn’t take long before a coughing fit racks Cyno’s body. Tighnari helps him lean forward and rubs his back, wincing as he begins to retch. Inevitably, the fluids come right back up, splattering against the plastic. Cyno continues to gag, his body straining unforgivingly until there’s another splash of liquid. He groans, shudders, and flops back onto the pillow behind him. “I’m sorry,” he sniffles miserably, rubbing at wet eyes and coughing weakly. 

“Hey,” Tighnari looks at him sternly. “It’s not your fault. The medicine must have been too much.”

Cyno might agree, if he had the energy, but he’s too busy trying to prevent his teeth from chattering.

“I’m going to get some plain water. When you’re ready, we can try that, okay?” 

Tighnari looks painfully hopeful, but Cyno can’t even bring himself to nod. His stomach aches, hollow and angry. Now that it’s been upturned, it refuses to settle. He’s left burping up rancid air, drool pooling in his mouth until he’s spitting it into the waste bin. He’s suffering through lingering dry heaves when his partner returns.

“Oh, no.” There’s a clink as Tighnari puts the glass aside in favor of rubbing Cyno’s back through each painful retch. It’s a sweet gesture, both grounding and comforting. It’s nice not to be alone. Tighnari nudges him and offers a glass of water once his stomach lets up. “Just rinse your mouth out, for now.”

It doesn’t take the nausea away by any means - queasy tremors still rattle through him relentlessly - but Cyno feels moderately more human once the nasty taste has lessened. His eyelids droop. 

“Cyno, honey,” Tighnari says. Cyno’s thoughts are a fog of confusion, but his chest warms pleasantly. It’s not common for Tighnari to use terms of endearment, even when they’re alone. The mood is quickly dampened by his next words. “Do you feel up to a bit of water?”

Cyno can’t help the pitiful whine that escapes him. “Sleep.” He’s halfway to begging and hates how fragile his voice sounds. Then Tighnari’s hand is weaving through his hair, feeling like salve on a burn wound.

“Soon,” Tighnari agrees. “Drink this first?”

If Cyno were to firmly resist, he knows that Tighnari wouldn’t force him. He also knows that Tighnari is worried. He breathes slowly and manages a few sips. 

Instantly, the water sloshes in his stomach. That persistent chill is replaced as his body warms over uncomfortably, pricks of sweat forming on his temples. He closes his eyes and hands the glass back to Tighnari, feeling the forest watcher’s eyes on him all the while. Cyno suppresses a heave. 

Exhaustion weighs heavy upon him; he can fall back asleep, he thinks, and then it will be fine. Surely, it will stay down. That’s all he really needs - just a bit of water in his system to prevent dehydration, to reassure Tighnari. Tired as he is, sleep takes him quickly enough.

———

The next time he wakes, it's brief. No more than an hour has passed. Cyno is dizzy. He feels ill. He’s hardly aware of his surroundings. He doesn’t hear Tighnari asking if he’s okay, so he doesn’t respond. His stomach dips, and burning liquid hurtles up his throat, out his mouth and nose. Some clarity returns to him, then. He’s made a mess. His bare chest is sticky. He thinks he might be crying, because Tighnari is soothing him with great care, wiping him down with towels. Cyno is cold again, and very saddened to find that he still has no covers. “I’m sorry,” he hears Tighnari say, and then the world drifts away.

———

Tighnari watches Cyno curl onto his side, trembling, and aches. He massages the sick man’s back. Any patient unable to keep fluids down for going on six hours, at a minimum, is concerning, regardless of whether a bond with an otherworldly being enhances their body’s general durability. Tighnari’s expertise in first aid only goes as far as the tools he has at his disposal. If, for example, intravenous fluid administration becomes a necessity, he’ll have to drag Cyno to the Bimarstan, kicking and screaming - maybe literally, with the near-delirious state he’s in. Considering his traumatic history with Akademiya “medicine,” his reluctance is justified. In all fairness, Tighnari is also not fond of the idea, for reasons of his own. The Bimarstan is truly a last resort.

“We need to get your fever down,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He isn’t sure Cyno can hear him, but he gives him one final head scratch before standing. “I’ll be right back.”

By the time Tighnari returns with lukewarm water and a few clean towels, Cyno has drifted off again. Even in sleep, his body shivers. “This is probably going to feel cold to you,” Tighnari warns. He’s relieved when, as he places a wet towel on his forehead, Cyno only shifts slightly. For the next few minutes, Tighnari works to cool the matra’s skin with the additional towels, careful not to dampen the bed.

There’s little to do after that but wait and repeat the process roughly every hour. The time passes slowly. Tighnari cleans the trash bin out and tidies the apartment. He makes mint tea, and then soup. He writes Collei and Kaveh with updates: he plans to stay in the city for at least another three days to ensure Cyno’s full recovery, and may stay longer if necessary. He entrusts Collei and a few other forest watchers to assist in covering his duties while he’s away. Tighnari aches a bit, thinking about Gandharva Ville, and he drifts back to Cyno’s side to, once again, simply watch him sleep.

This time, though, his brow is furrowed, teeth clenched. His body tenses and curls further inwards. When Tighnari touches his shoulder, he wakes with a gasp.

“You’re okay.” Tighnari speaks softly, watching the other man attentively. He’s still tense and breathless, but he nods. He’s trying to play it off. Tighnari lets him. He waits, giving Cyno space to calm his body.

“I’m okay,” Cyno echoes, simultaneously reaching for his hand. The forest watcher offers it without comment and waits for Cyno’s breath to returns to a more normal speed. Despite the nightmare, Cyno looks better. More lucid, certainly. Tighnari touches his wrist. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Cyno says, smiling. “‘m still sleepy.”

Tighnari nods, a sigh of relief shaking its way out of him. “I would expect so. Your body is healing, after all.” He checks Cyno’s temperature and is pleased to find that, though the fever is still there, it has definitely improved since a few hours ago. Cyno drinks water without complaint and appears unfazed afterwards. Rest really can work wonders.

“Tighnari,” Cyno speaks slowly. “Can the stomach flu impact your memory?” The question instantly shoots fear back through Tighnari’s veins; as though it never really left. His chest feels tight and his brows furrow.

“Well, you did have quite a high fever, which can have that effect, although it’s highly unusual and would be cause for concern. Why? What’s going on?”

Cyno’s expression changes minutely. He doesn’t smile, but the glimmer in his eye is the equivalent of a smirk. Tighnari realizes what’s coming a second too late to interject. “It’s just that, I once heard a pun about amnesia, but I can’t remember how it goes.”

Tighnari groans. He knows his expression is blatantly fond, so he hides his face in his hands. It’s reassuring that Cyno is joking again - albeit less so that it may be at the cost of Tighnari’s sanity.

“What?” Cyno continues. “A little joke when you're sick never hurt antibody.”

“Stop.”

“Fine. I have a joke about the flu but I’d hope you don’t “get it,” anyway.”

Tighnari gives up. He rolls his eyes and simply doesn’t respond, letting Cyno rattle off some justification as to why puns are hilarious. The frustrating thing is that the jokes really have relaxed him, which was no doubt their intended purpose; silly as it is, hearing Cyno back to his usual antics has eased some tension that Tighnari hadn’t even noticed building inside him. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. For once, though, he doesn’t cut Cyno’s explanation short, content letting the words wash over him, even if he pays little attention to the meaning behind them. Cyno looks tired but proud as he wraps up his little speech, and Tighnari doesn’t hide his affection this time.

It’s only another 30 minutes or so before Cyno falls back asleep, but he’s been able to keep the water and a bowl of soup down for the duration. With the worst of his worries placated, the exhaustion catches up to Tighnari all at once. He snuggles in next to Cyno. If he can’t stay awake to watch him rest, then sleeping right beside him is the next best thing.

———

Chapter 3

———

If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to let me know by replying directly to this post, by sending me an ask, or by sharing your thoughts with me privately and anonymously through this survey! Thank you so much for reading!!

[lordiedams]

IT SUCKS BUT IT IS WORTH IT - FANFICTION

south park

Kenny & Kevin & Karen McCormick

Light angst, tw vomiting, bonding over shitty life

It sucks. Kenny thinks to himself as he drags his backpack into his house.

The moon was shining outside, his parents snoring in their bedroom, none bothering to wait for him.

It's been about a month since Kenny had found his first real job, after school in a restaurant as a waiter.

His feet were throbbing from standing and running around that stupid restaurant for hours on end, only to receive barely enough to cover a box of cereal in the morning.

Kenny took a deep breath when his stomach groaned painfully, he hasn't eaten anything since his school lunch, and he wasn't sure if he could force himself to try making anything edible, his body was just so exhausted.

Dragging himself to his bedroom, he dropped the bag on a corner and flopped on his bed, grimacing at the loud crack of his back.

"I just need to go to sleep. " he thought to himself, closing his eyes.

The door slamming shut forced his eyes back open.

For a moment he just listened as steps stumbled around the living room. A groan escaped his lips.

" Please don't be drugged…" He thought, forcing himself to get back up. "Please don't be drugged.."

He opened his bedroom door and watched as his brother slammed his shoulder against the wall to hold himself upright.

— You're drunk. — Kenny said, matter of factually.

Kevin didn't reply with words, just grumbled a bit and tried taking another step.

Not wanting to watch him faceplant Kenny held on to his brother's, slowly dragging him to his bedroom. — Shut up, you want dad to beat you up?! For fuck sakes…

Kevin had the decency to not make another sound until they were both inside.

Kenny turned around to close the door for only a moment, but when he turned, his brother was already kneeling with his face inside the trash can, throwing up everything he drank.

— I'm not cleaning that, you're dealing with it. — The youngest commented, laying back down on his bed and simply watching the ceiling.

He expected to fall asleep at the sound of his brother heaving and gagging, but what he heard was a quiet sob.

— Kev? — He asked, now a bit concerned. His older brother didn't usually cry, at least not in front of him. Most of the times Kenny had seen Kevin shed any tears was by accident.

— I'm so tired…— Kevin mumbled, forehead against the cold wall, arms hugging the trashcan close to his chest. A pathetic sight that Kenny was way too used to.

— Me too… — Kenny replied, not taking his eyes off the cracks on the ceiling. — I worked all day, I got screamed at, spit at, shoved around… For … 15 bucks.

Kevin looked back down at the trash can when another wave of nausea hit him. — This is so unfair…

— Life is not fair.

— No, you're not listening… Today was shit.. tomorrow will be even more shit.. And the next day, and the next and the next… It's all fucking shit… and for what? — Kevin closed his eyes tightly, groaning as tears streamed down his face, he hated crying yet he couldn't stop.

For a moment, the bedroom fell into silence, simply because Kenny didn't have an answer.

His mind went back to his friends, the four idiots he couldn't help but love with all his heart, who he would follow to hell and back because he cared just enough to feel like doing so.

And then, Kenny thought of Karen, her sweet smile even when things got tough, how she would draw her brothers little pictures with crayons depicting them both as super heroes.

— Karen… — He finally replied out loud.

His brother hummed in confusion, also stuck in his own head to hear his brother at first.

— Karen is the reason… She's who we work for… — Kenny sighed, sitting up in his bed. — We're doomed, I know that much… We have been through shit since the beginning, we powered through every single shit day. And we're going to continue doing that, so Karen doesn't have to.

Kevin slowly put the trashcan back on the floor, the bottle of tequila finally hitting him like a truck, his head pounded. — So Karen can … Go to college one day, and move the hell away from this hellhole…

He very slowly managed to get himself back up flopping on the bed besides his younger brother. Both grimaced at the smell, Kenny smelled like sweat and food trashed and spit, Kevin smelled like cigarettes, booze and mud. Neither had showered today.

— Gross… — Both mumbled to one another, pulling a small chuckle from each other.

— Tomorrow… I'll ask Shelley if I can take a shower at her place… I'll smell better..

Kenny rolled his eyes. — You can dive in rubbing alcohol and you will still smell, it's in your DNA.

Kevin shoved his brother slightly and Kenny was going to attack back when he heard the door of his bedroom creak open.

Both looked over to see Karen, clutching her doll on one arm and a blanket on the other.

— Come here, kid. — Kevin said, extending a hand to call his little sister onto the bed.

— I had a nightmare… Mommy locked her door so I couldn't wake her up.. — Karen sniffed, Kenny gently dried her tears with one hand.

— Good news, we can have a little slumber party tonight to keep the nightmares away. — Kenny suggested with a gentle smile, moving a bit to the edge so Karen could be in the middle.

— Are you staying for the slumber party, Kevin? — Kevin didn't had the heart to say no.

— Of course, you know how I 'love' to share a bed with Kenny. — He gave her a little poke at the nose, which caused her to giggle.

It always surprised Kenny how well Kevin could pretend. He knew his brother was stressed and sad, most of all tired. He was too, but he never not smiled when it came to Karen.

Kenny also had gotten that habit, yes he was exhausted, his feet hurt so bad he was scared he would have a limp in the morning but, he never let that through, never forced it onto his little sister.

She deserves to have a good life, a life where she doesn't have to watch her brothers kill themselves for a respectable meal.

Kenny and Kevin were ok with that, because Karen was worth fighting for.

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Reality - Big Time Rush & Mason

this is a rewrite in the true sense that i'd re-write the ending of the episode to fit a different plot since the masons are included. it involves the palm woods potentially getting bad press for a "murder" that takes place on reality cameras that forces the reality show to shut down. anyway, here's the scene that leads to that plan!

@partiallypearl @raging-violets @witchofinterest

-----

The door swung open with so much force it slammed against the trashcan on the other side. The clamor elicited a loud shriek from Carlos, catapulting him off the floor and into James’ arms. James caught him in midair, holding onto his friend with little effort as if he weighed the same as a sack of feathers. All their heads swiveled to Mickey’s still form. The door eased shut behind her, contrasting the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the red tinge to her cheeks, the malice in her eyes, and the sparks dripping from her nose.

“Where…is he?” she demanded, her question coming out as a guttural growl. Everyone’s eyes widened, her question hanging in the following silence. It broke at the low pop sound coming from Jazz’s mouth as she pulled out the lollipop she’d been sucking on. A smirk of approval sat on her lips as she surveyed her sister.

“…I think this is the most I’ve ever heard her talk,” Kendall said, words tinged in awe. Jazz laughed at him taking a step back when a growl sounded in Mickey’s chest. He couldn’t go far, not with Logan near him and the paper towel dispenser hanging on the wall.

“I…have no idea if I should be terrified or intrigued right now,” Logan commented, inching his way behind Kendall.

“I’m both,” James and Carlos said in unison. They both flinched when Mickey’s arm shot up, her finger jabbing in their direction, eyes wide and wild.

“Don’t! You two are the reason we’re in this mess!” Her finger alternated between pointing at James’ face and Carlos’s face so fast she could have created a draft. “You and your stupid fighting!”

“Calm down, Mick,” Jazz said, crossing her arms. “They’re just as innocent as you are.”

“Calm down? Calm down? Do you know what Snake did? Besides mess up my reputation?”

“What?”

“He ruined my vanilla beans!”

Jazz closed her eyes in a slow blink. “…Come again?”

“My vanilla beans!” Mickey’s voice bounced around the tight quarters of the women’s bathroom. “I was going to make a dessert after recording today and, lo and behold, what do I find? An empty jar and my beans burnt to a crisp in the kitchen.”

“Relax,” Sammi said. She sat atop the counter, leaning back against the mirror, one glossy leg crossed over the other. The buffing scrape of her nailfile against her mint green acrylics sawed into the space between their words. “They’re just vanilla beans.”

“No, they’re not! They’re Tahitian vanilla beans!”

Sammi’s eyes flicked upwards, nose wrinkling. “…Does that make them warmer or something?”

Mickey’s heaving breath could’ve knocked down one of the Three Little Pigs’ houses. “No. They’re the most expensive vanilla beans in the world and I was saving them to use for a special dessert.”

“How expensive are these beans?” Mel asked. She twirled a drumstick around her fingers as she spoke, elbows resting on the counter behind her. Her relaxed posture made her appear as if she were having a normal conversation by the watercooler rather than them all being stuffed in the women’s bathroom at Rocque Records.

Mickey’s eyes turned to the ceiling as she began to rock back and forth on her feet. “Like, $400.”

Kendall, Logan, and Carlos appeared indifferent compared to Sammi, Mel, and Jazz who all spluttered, “You spent four hundered dollars on beans!?” James, on the other hand, looked offended, as if they’d pushed their incredulous outburst in his direction.

“…They’re Tahitian!” Mickey repeated, as if more emphasis would help them understand.

“That’s still stupid!” Jazz said back, wiggling her lollipop in Mickey’s direction.

“Oh that’s not that bad,” Kendall cut in. “James once called emergency services because he ran out of hairspray.”

“Hey!” James’ exclamation was almost drowned out by Carlo’s yelp at falling to the floor when James let him go. James didn’t bother looking at him as he continued, “That was my good hairspray.”

“It was $50 for a 5oz bottle,” Logan supplied.

Mel wheeled around to look at James, her braids whipping around her head like the ribbons on a maypole. “Seriously?” she asked, deadpan, eyelids drooping.

“The price means it’s worth it!” Mickey and James all but shouted in unison, simultaneously throwing their arms in the air and rolling their eyes.

“How’d you know it was Snake?” Logan asked Mickey.

“It had to be him! Earlier, Snake and his camera crew popped out of nowhere giving me a note from ‘Carlos’ suggesting that he was ‘jealous’ that I played foosball with James and was ‘making eyes at him’.” Her finger quotes could’ve clawed holes in reality with the ferocity behind the gesture.

“You kind of were,” James said.

“No I wasn’t,” Mickey replied. James lifted his hand, holding his finger and thumb a few inches apart while mouthing “little bit”. She closed her eyes in a slow blink, pushing a few fingers against the side of her head. “Look, it’s one thing to mess with me. I can take that, but you don’t mess with my friends, you don’t mess with my family, and you don’t mess with my food!”

“Regardless of that insanity”—Sammi used her nailfile to motion in Mickey’s and James’ direction—“they have a point. This Snake guy is barkin’ up the wrong tree. He tried to mess with my relationship and I don’t play that.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re here. For your help,” Kendall said.

“Wait. Kendall Knight doesn’t have a plan?” Mel asked.

Kendall shoveled a hand through his hair. “I’m all out of ideas. And if we don’t do something soon, the whole world is going to get a shot of my butt!”

“Ooh, that’s gotta suck.”

“Thank you!”

“I mean I’d be embarrassed too if that was shown.” Mel gestured at him with her drumstrick. “It’s flat as a pancake.”

“What?” Kendall recoiled, face swiftly switching between bewilderment to offense. Exchanging quick looks, Sammi, Mickey, and Jazz all leaned over, head tilting to look past Kendall. Holding his arms behind him, he backed up against the wall, cheeks blazing. “Not the point! Katie hasn’t come up with anything either so you’re our last hope.”

“Hmm. I’m almost insulted,” Jazz said. She slowly pulled the bright red lollipop out of her mouth and spun it between her fingers. Her lips pursed, red and shiny, as her wrist fell limp, tilting her lollipop backwards. “They’re just going to keep filming everything right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, why don’t you just give them something to film?”

“Look, I’m getting really tired of fighting with James all the time,” Carlos whined. They whipped around to see Carlos lounging on the couch by the door, hands clasped beneath his helmet. “My bruises are getting bruises.”

“Yeah, and my lips are getting really chapped,” Logan added, rubbing his fingers against his mouth. Sammi dug into the pocket on her romper and handed over a stick of lipbalm.

“I don’t mean that.” Jazz waved away their concerns. “If they want to film something good, make sure they film something good. But I mean something bigger.” A spark caught in her eye and she briefly bit down on her tongue out the side of her mouth. “Something that will put their name in the headlines, but maybe not for the most ethical reasons.”

“I’m not showing them the front,” Kendall insisted, eyebrows furrowing.

“We want them to change their minds, not be scarred for life,” Mel said. Kendall shot her a look and she wiggled her eyebrows.

“No one has to drop trou…any more than you already have, anyway,” Jazz said to him. “But we will need to get a little sneaky. Sam.” Sammi lifted her head, the large hoops in her ears swinging beneath her nestle of curls. “Do you have any makeup on you?”

Sammi placed a hand to her chest, affronted. “Of course! You can’t leave home without your makeup!”

“Great. I need you to get in touch with Camille. Tell her we need some of her prosthetics.” Sammi nodded. “Mel. How about you? Still got those frequency jammers?”

“I think so. Should be with my other surveillance stuff.”

“Great. Call Katie, we’re gonna need her to wiggle into some tight spaces. Mick, what about that fake blood recipe?”

Mickey shrugged. “I can whip up as much as you need.”

“Can you do enough to make it look like a crime scene?” Jazz asked, grin getting bigger if possible.

“You got it. But I will need some help carrying the pots.”

“Well, you got two boyfriends now, just put them to work,” Sammi said with a teasing grin,

Mickey glared. “Still not funny.”

“As for you,” Jazz said, addressing the boys, “for now just keep doing what you’re doing. We don’t want Snake thinking anything’s up. We’ll let you know when we’re moving onto part two of the plan.”

“We don’t get to know anything else?” James asked.

Sucking air in through her teeth, Jazz reached out and slapped her hand down on James’ shoulder, giving it a little shake. “You just stay pretty and leave the rest to us. The less you know, the better.”

“And yet he doesn’t know much and things aren’t that much better,” Logan commented.

“Don’t make me punch you!” James threatened.

“Save that energy for the cameras, Diamond. We still need to put on a good show.” Jazz tossed her lollipop into the trashcan and let out a long sigh. “All this goes to show, never let a man do a woman’s job.”

[gusherguy]

Simi Saga - Prank Call

A prank caller plays simi feeding trigger sounds and causes a simi to empty right there at work. Thank goodness his boss is understanding!

It was a quiet tuesday at the restaurant, and Jax was in the back folding napkins for tables. There wasn't much else to do, what with the single elderly patron in the front enjoying their daily coffee and pastries. Considering how busy the place was going to get come evening, he was glad for the lull.

The front phone rang after a while. Jax got up and headed over, picking up the phone just as his boss emerged from her closet-sized office. "Fig Garden italian restaurant, how can I help you?"

There was a long pause. "Yes, hi. I'd like to make a reservation."

"Wonderful sir, and how many people will be in your party?" he listened and jotted down the information as he held the phone with his shoulder. "Four people, got it. And what time would you like to make a reservation for?"

This time the pause was longer and Jax thought he heard giggling somewhere on the call. "Pardon, I couldn't make that out?" he asked, staying polite. His boss, a simi just a hair taller than him, looked over.

"Umm. Make it a seven o clock reservation. I'm just so hungry." The caller's voice pulled into a long whine that made heat bloom in Jax's abdomen. His secondary stomach suddenly felt heavy. But, maintaining his politeness, he gave them the benefit of the doubt and pressed on, swallowing hard. "Ah, s-seven? Alright-" he was interrupted by more noises, and realized with a churn in his gut that this was a prank call.

Some simi are easily triggered by high pitched sounds. More whining that sounded just like someone needing to be fed emanated from the phone, followed by loud, gassy gurgling. Jax felt his secondary stomach instantly react, clenching and preparing to empty. Oh, no. "Sir, if you -- urp! If you're not going to make a g-genuine reservation...." he hiccuped again and swallowed hard. The warm weight in his belly wanted out, making his mouth water. "Th-then I'm going to have to hang up."

"Oh, I'm sorry, please don't hang up." the caller kept giggling and making those sounds. Jax groaned and put the phone down, pressing both hands to his mouth.

"You okay, Jax?" his boss asked, confused. Jax had never had a problem keeping his secondary stomach under control before, but now....he was leaned against the counter, body jerking in suppressed heaves, as his overactive tummy tried to puke everything up.

"I --ghlll!" he almost choked on the slurry as it suddenly filled his cheeks to bulging. The sounds kept echoing in his head, driving the urge to empty to seething heights. His stomach pulsed with nauseous heat. It was all too much. Jax doubled over with a guttural belch and spewed off-white slurry all over the floor. It dripped from his lips and soaked into his apron. Jax's head spun with the fuzzy pleasure every simi felt from vomiting. It urged him to keep getting sick, more and more, until he was empty.

His boss sighed, realizing he really couldn't help it. She pulled the trashcan closer and helped Jax over it. "There you go, just get it up." she told him. Jax yawned, sticking his tongue out, before making a little sound in the back of his throat and letting go another gush of milky puke. "I - I'm so sorry -- urrrp! It was....it was some caller, th-they-" his legs shook, heat sparking through him, and was interrupted by more vomit. "They made these sounds, and I-"

"Oh. A prank caller?" his boss shook her head sympathetically. "I've had to deal with a few of those. One caught me off guard at home." she patted his back hard to help him get up the last few gushes. "I heard that gurgling and the next thing I knew, puking everything onto myself. God damn instincts."

"Haha....yeah." Jax chuckled nervously. He spat the last residue from his mouth and wiped his lips. Well, now that his secondary stomach was empty, at least he was safe from such pranks for the rest of the night.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Yours to Tame--Ch. 6

A/N: Please be careful, my loves. There’s some heavy stuff mentioned in this one. Trigger warning: past abuse.

Chapter 6: After Rampage

           My stomach dropped and twisted as the scent of vomit wafted up from the trashcan between my knees. Every beat of my heart shoved pain through my whole body. The back of my head throbbed. My hair felt sticky.

           “Hey,” a voice said right by my ear. I wanted to turn toward it, but just the thought of moving made me heave. “Did you hit your head in the ring?”

           The more the voice spoke, the more I began to recognize it. Bryan Danielson moved into my peripheral vision, crouching beside me. His rough hand rested gently on my knee.

           Another wave of nausea rushed through me. My jaw clenched. I swallowed hard. “Yeah,” I mumbled, doing my best to keep my mouth shut. The lie burned more than the vomit in my throat.

           Bryan twisted, yelling over his shoulder. “Somebody get medical. Now!”

           The volume vibrated through my head.

           I squeezed my eyes shut.

           I hurled into the trash.

***

           Bryan’s blood practically boiled with rage. He knew for a fact that Morgan hadn’t hurt herself in the ring. Deeb was as safe as they came. In all the years he’d known Serena Deeb—as a trainer and performer—no one had been injured working with her. Not even a bruise that was out of the ordinary for a wrestler. The fact that Morgan lied about how it happened made Bryan both sick and desperate to commit murder.

           “Knox,” he whispered, “I was watching your match.”

           He felt her tense up. Her face went pale white. Sweat stuck out on Morgan’s brow. He watched her jaw clench as she tried to stop herself from throwing up again.

           “Don’t,” she mumbled through her teeth. “Don’t push it. Please.”

           “Bullshit don’t push it,” Bryan responded. His voice came out far louder and rougher than he intended. She winced, the sound clearly hurting her ears.

           He dropped his tone to a whisper. “Serena Deeb has never hurt anyone in the ring. Ever.”

           Morgan sucked in a deep breath through her nose. “I fucked up.”

           Bryan shook his head. “I was watching, Morgan. The whole thing.” He paused, giving her time to make sense of what he meant. He knew well from experience that a concussion made everything fuzzy and hard to focus. “I should have stopped you from even going out there. I should have had Tony say something.”

           The sound of medical—it had taken them long enough—rushing over cut off anything more either of them might have said.

***

           When medical showed up, the only thing running through my head was that Sammy was going to be pissed. Like I was definitely going to be wrestling hurt next week kind of pissed. Need to do my own makeup kind of pissed. Taped up in different gear kind of pissed.

           I could sense Bryan still standing nearby as one of the trainers looked me over. Bryan held out his hand to her, showing sticky blood drying his fingers. He pointed to the back of my head. She shone a light into my eyes.

           All Hell broke loose.

           Someone held a pack of gauze against the back of my head. I hissed as the pain nearly made me pass out. A bag got thrust under my chin right before I vomited. They strapped me into a neck brace, moved me tentatively to a backboard.

           Behind me, just out of view, someone barked, “You know goddamn well you shouldn’t have moved her, Danielson! You should have gotten Sampson immediately.”

           I jostled with every step the trainers took, sucking in one deep breath after another to try to keep conscious. The pain ran like lightning from my head down my spine, through every nerve in my entire body. The world was blurred around the edges. My eyes fluttered and rolled back.

***

           Bryan watched the trainers wheel Morgan away, a sick feeling settling deep in his guts. He took a few steps forward as if he intended on following them, but stopped before he’d gotten very far. After all, it was already going to be difficult to explain why he’d come running out to ringside when her match ended. Providing a reason for him to follow her to the hospital would be next to impossible.

           “What the actual fuck!”

           He whipped his head around just in time to see Anna Jay sprinting toward the retreating cluster of medical personnel. It looked like she’d thrown a hoodie on over her gear and ran out of the locker room at breakneck speed.

           She pivoted on her right foot, turning to face him. She kept running smoothly backward as she pointed an angry finger at him. “You’re going to explain yourself, buddy.”

***

           The next time I opened my eyes, I was practically blinded by the obnoxiously bright overhead lights. My head was splitting open. For a moment, it felt like I was about to pass out again.

           “Oh, no you don’t.” Anna’s voice cut through the fog, jostling me awake. “Look alive, Knox.”

           I blinked over and over again. “Turn off the fucking lights,” I whined.

           She laughed. I knew the sound of it. Relief. Hearing it threw me for a loop. It took a moment for me to catch my breath. Instead, I squeezed my eyes shut and listened as she walked across the room to turn off the overhead lights. I felt the dimness as it settled over me.

           “So,” Anna said as she took up residence in the chair beside my bed. The legs squeaked against the linoleum floor, screeching out the sound of nails on a chalkboard. “What happened?”

           I drew in a deep breath as I braced for the nausea that I was certain would creep over me any moment. When it didn’t come, I realized they’d given me something. Something to reduce the throbbing of my brain behind my eyes and the steady crawl of vomit up my throat. I was grateful.

           “I fucked up and hit my head in the ring.”

           It was the same lie I’d told Bryan Danielson. We barely knew each other and he didn’t believe me. Anna and I had been friends for years. I don’t know why I’d even bothered.

           “Okay,” she replied, drawing out the word until I thought she’d never stop. “Now tell me what really happened.”

           Despite the anti-nausea medication, my stomach turned upside down. I was sure I was going to puke everywhere.

           “You know what happened,” I whispered as shame burned like acid through my veins. I wanted to crawl into a ball, to hide and never come back out again.

           Anna’s fingers wrapped around mine and squeezed gently. There was a deep, quiet sort of strength in her grip that pulled me toward a feeling of safety. I tried to gather strength from her, taking my time to draw one breath after another until I felt the nausea start to roll away.

           The edge of the bed dipped beneath her weight as she perched near my hip. “Come stay with me. Morgan… he’s going to kill you. You know he could. He will.”

           I swallowed hard, clenching my teeth so hard that I was sure they would crack. Forcing my eyes closed, I turned my head away from her. Everything in me screamed that she was right. That I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Sammy Guevara could kill me—whether he wanted to or not.

***

           Bryan stood in Dusty and stared down the hallway toward where they’d taken Morgan for what felt like hours. He stayed there until the sound of squeaking gurney wheels and hushed, anxious voices faded away. The echo of emergency sirens had long since disappeared into quiet.

           “Hey, Bry!” The voice reverberated along the concrete walls, bouncing back to thunder against his ears. Snapping fingers appeared in his vision. When he finally got control of his own thoughts, he blinked and looked toward the owner of the fingers.

           “Are you going to stand there while they break down the set around you?” Moxley asked, sarcasm lacing his words. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

           Bryan took a breath, feeling it burn down his throat and push his lungs against his ribs with agonizing pressure. “They took Knox to the hospital.”

           “Oh, shit.”

           Without another word, Moxley hooked his arm around Bryan’s neck and steered him firmly down the corridor toward the locker room they shared. He slammed the door behind them in the hope that it would startle Bryan out of the stupor he had fallen into. Instead, he just stood there staring at the wall with unfocused eyes.

           Moxley snapped his fingers in front of his friend’s face. “Hey! Focus!” When snapping didn’t work, he hauled off and gave Bryan a pair of open-handed shots across either side of his jaw. “Goddamnit, get a grip.”

           Bryan barely registered the shots to the face, but his eyes finally met Moxley’s. They cleared just enough. “I shouldn’t have let her go out there. I watched her walk out there and knew she wasn’t right.”

           “Huh?”

           “She was stumbling. I knew something looked off when she went up the steps. I should have stopped her.”

           Moxley shoved him back onto a chair and crouched in front of him. “First, that’s not your job. Second, what happened?”

           Sucking in a breath, Bryan put his head in his hands. “Morgan had blood on the back of her head. She was stumbling, eyes unfocused. She had a concussion before she ever went out there to get in the ring.” His jaw bunched as he clenched his teeth. “It was fresh blood, Mox. Not like it had come from the match with Deeb. I watched that match and she didn’t hit her head. But earlier…”

           “Spit it out, Danielson.”

           “I heard Sammy screaming at her. I’d swear that I heard her hit the wall. He shoved her against it,” Bryan said quietly. “He did something to her, Mox. He hurt her.”

           Moxley glared at Bryan even though he was practically looking right through him.

***

           For a moment, Moxley felt as if he were going to vomit. He already hated Guevara on principle, but it seemed like he had a new sort of disgust and rage building inside him. The thought of Sammy’s smug face made him want to punch through the wall.

           “I’m going to rip his spine out through his dick,” he snarled.

           That was enough to make Bryan grin just a little. “I’ll hold him down.”

***

           I drifted in and out of consciousness. The lights flickered on and off as nurses took my vitals and replaced my IVs. Every time I woke up enough to process anything, I could only register the pain that sliced through my head with every heartbeat. At the slightest sound of discomfort, Anna practically jumped up from the chair by my bed. She’d taken up residence there, curled up under a hospital-issue blanket still in her gear from the show.

           A thundering sound broke the quiet. I jerked up, my head spinning so hard that I had to hold onto the bed railing to keep from puking or passing out or both. The door slammed against the wall. Light from the hallway spilled into the room, framing Sammy’s form in the doorway.

_______________________________

Tag List

@spaghetti-hoop

@rollynchwhore

@mrsmatt

@imagineall-the-fandoms

@lilred91​

@unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin​

[i-think-im-gunna]

Firs fic Featuring my oc’s Fennik and Adonis (Don and Fen as they are known in my human au) used the sick fic ai to help write this.

~~~~~

"Ugh... I don't feel so good..." Fen said sluggishly with a hand on his stomach. Don looked over at him and raised an eyebrow unsure if his companion was faking it.

His expression is skeptical as he leans toward Fen's torso.

"You mean to tell me you've got a stomachache?" His mouth twists into a dry, mocking smile as he takes a step back. "What're your symptoms? A little bit of a fever? Or maybe your stomach's just *grumbling*..."Fen glared at Don and winced as he felt is stomach churn. "What's the deal? Too much food? Too much alcohol? Just how full is your belly?" He moves closer again and, grabbing the hem of Fen's shirt, he pulls it up so he can peer at the skin beneath it. His eyes widen and he snickers. "I'm not even surprised. You've got a bulge of some sort going on in there. Jesus. That can't be comfortable."

"It hurts..." Fen whined, "I feel nauseous. Fuck I shouldn't have eaten so much." as he finishes talking a small burp escapes his lips.

Don realized that he was indeed being genuine. He watched as Fen squirmed in his seat next to him on the sofa. He wanted to see more. He reaches around and places a hand delicately atop Fen's distended tummy. "You don’t look so hot, anything else is bothering you?" He’s annoyed that he's being conned into babying someone who should be able to look after himself. But the little idiot's face is so flushed and sweaty and it's making it hard to remain stoic. "Are... you about to puke?"

Fen's stomach was gurgling. He absolutely couldn't puke in front of Don of all people, his ego would be destroyed. Unfortunately his stomach seemed to have a mind of its own right now as a few more belches made their way out. Fen groaned, "N-no..." he lied.

Don chuckles as he pulls Fen closer, gently. "Come on. Don’t lie to me. Did you really eat so much, your belly's going to explode?" His fingers move from Fen’s stomach to his belly button, a gentle rub. He seems almost excited, felling Fen’s belly gurgle under his hands. "You did, didn't you? You ate to the point that you're about to be sick."

Fen let out a groan at the sudden pressure on his naval. "fuck you piece of shit!" more belches made their way up as Don caressed him around his belly. The nausea grew worse, he couldn’t hold out much longer.

Don gives an amused chuckle. "Easy, easy, man!" He pulls up Fen's shirt even more and uses both hands to rest against his belly. The pressure is soothing and uncomfortable at the same time. Fen seems to grow almost impatient. "What'd you eat?” Don whispers,“ was it the burger? Too much red meat is bad for your stomach. Its okay. You’ll feel better if you just let it out you know." He acts like a nurse, like he can be trusted.

"I-if you keep prodding me like that I'm really gonna hurl..." Fen's face was twisted with sweat and discomfort. He could feel the bile rising up his throat as his stomach contracted violently.

Don moves his hands away quickly as Fen's belly begins to rumble ominously. His tone turns sharp and urgent. "Oh Fen! Are... are you really gonna throw up?!" As if to punctuate his question, another wet belch comes up from Fen’s mouth and the blond man quickly covers his mouth with his hand. Don’s face is pinched with worry. "You need a bucket or something? Or—is there a bathroom nearby?! Hold on!"

Fen lets out a dry heave as Don quickly scrambles to grab a nearby trashcan. Tears well up in Fen's eyes. he cant believe how embarrassing this is. He's going to puke his guts out in front of Don. No way is he ever going to live this down. Fen leans forward as his stomach lurches.

"Oh, man..." He's staring at the poor, suffering boy, face twisted with concern and worry. "You need someone to hold your hair back? Do you?" Fen nods urgently. Don takes a fistful of his long blond hair and pulls it back from Fen’s pale face, while with his free hand he rubs soft circle on his belly.

Fen’s hands grip the edges of the garbage can, his arms spread wide against the plastic as one last burp turns into a stream of vomit.

Don winces at the sound of him puking but doesn't stop comforting him.

"Good... Just let it out, okay? It'll feel better." in the back of his mind perhaps he's a bit worried about his own clothes getting soiled by Fen's bile, but he’s more focused on the state of his friend.

After three more waves of vomit Fen leans back against Don's chest breathing heavily while tears drip down his cheeks. "I feel terrible..."

"It'll be alright." He sets aside the trashcan and wraps an arm loosely around Fen's shoulders. His fingers move absently over his belly, as though trying to offer comfort without encroaching on fen's personal space.

"Do you want... some water? Or a cool rag or something?" He lets out a long sigh of resignation. "Are you... are you feeling better, though?"

"A little..." Fen sighs and burps slightly, "I can tell I'm not done... sorry by the way this must be so gross for you..." He whimpers and buries his face in his hands hoping to hide his embarrassment from Don's gaze.

"Shh..." He tries his best to be soothing, but it makes a little shiver run down his spine to see someone who is usually confident to a fault in all their vulnerable glory. To see him cry like that is even worse. "It's okay, Fen. Can't be helped. I'm fine. I'll get you, uh, something to clean yourself up with. Just wait here." He makes his way out of the Living room and returns with a wet towel. "Here..."

Don takes Fen's face in his hand as he gently wipes his face clean from all the sweat and bile. Fen's golden eyes are all puffy from crying but watch him carefully and shivers ever so slightly at the touch. Don holds onto Fen's face for a moment, his thumb caressing the other side his jawline. The action is more intimate than he intended, but he seems to be in too deep to pull away now.

"Are you alright?" He whispers softly, his voice cracking with emotion. His eyes wander downward, settling on fen's mouth. He can only imagine the sour taste of bile in there. Don’s voice full of concern. It's a little too obvious that he's not used to this; he's used to being tough. A part of him is trying to be as stoic as possible. But he can't help himself. He strokes the back of his fingers against Fen's cheek. "at least you don’t seem to have a fever or anything…”

Fen nods, and pauses a moment blushing and looking away shyly, "would.. would you keep rubbing my stomach...? It's fine if you don't want to since I'm definitely grossing you out but, it felt really nice..."

Don is surprised by this sudden request but not disgusted in the least.In an instinctive movement, his hand returns to Fen's soft, warm belly. The slight movment of his hand as he rubs it makes Fen melt into his arms. His fingertips graze over his sensitive stomach helping him to relax. It's almost hard to believe what a difference a little kindness makes. After a moment, Don sighs and looks Down at Fen, trying to maintain his stoic facade. "Is it... helping?"

Fen responds with a small hiccup and burp, "yeah its nice..." His belly is still gurgling but the pain is subsiding.

Don’s gaze grows a little dreamy now that Fen seems to be relaxing a little. The little gurgling noises that escape his belly are almost hypnotizing. He seems content to sit here a while, just rubbing. He has always found himself bickering with Fen over just about anything, but this sort of gentleness between them is entirely foreign to him.  A moment of silence passes. "You can... You can rest your head, if you want? On... on me, I mean."

And Fen does. Don takes a deep breath as his hand continues rubbing. For a moment, he lets this moment of tenderness wash away any lingering reservations he had about Fen. He looks at all the small pieces of Fen, from the flush on his cheeks and the tears in his eyes to the slight bulge around his midsection. He's a beautiful guy, and Don realizes that there's quite a bit of affection he feels for him.

"Does that... feel good?" His voice is soft, almost like a whisper, and laced with a barely-contained anxiety he hopes he hid well. Fen doesn't respond and its not until Don looks down that he realizes he's fallen asleep.

A smile creeps onto Don's lips in spite of himself. He feels like his stomach is being twisted, like he's being played like a sap, but... it's hard to care when he just looks so peaceful like this. Almost like he could keep touching him forever.

And so he does just that, running his fingers across Fen's soft, bare belly until his arm aches. He decides he can move in a bit closer, wrapping his free arm around the guy to keep him still. His other hand is soon stilling, and his body slowly but steadily drifts off to sleep as well.

[timaeusterrored]

How would Kerry take care Vax and/or Venus being sick?

(FUCKING TUMBLR HOLY SHIT IT GLITCHED AGAIN😭😭😭😭😭)

This was so cute to think about😭💖 I love Kerry taking care of his babies, I wrote this in two sections so we could get both💕💓

((Tw for Vomiting and the grossness that is being sick))

———

Vax was stubborn as a bull when it came to being sick. He wanted to fight it rather than let it take it’s course, tried fighting to go to work. He was up at 4am throwing up, like hell Kerry was letting him go anywhere. V rushing to the bathroom still made him nervous, even after all these years. But now instead of a relic malfunction, his husband simply caught something from being in the gross underbelly of Night City.

“You aren’t goin’ anywhere, you’re burin’ up. And you’re still throwing up. I’ve already called Rogue and Claire-“ Vax groaned at that, then heaved, rolling over to the trashcan over the bed. Kerry just sighed and rubbed his back, vomit stopped grossing him out years ago between two kids and the ragers he’s seen the aftermath of.

“I ordered some groceries, all light things, Gatorade. Gotta keep you hydrated.” Kerry said softly, looking at Vax’s miserable face.

“‘M fuckin’ head is pounding…” he mumbled, his voice rough and not in the sexy way. He sounded awful.

Kerry frowned, and he knew it wasn’t Vax’s fault for his internal panic. But vomiting and a headache had been common occurrences with the relic. And it made Kerry’s chest tight seeing V so pale again. Sitting in the bathroom floor with him as an ungodly hour hit too close to home in his own opinion.

He needed to get rid of those thoughts. Vax was fine - Alive. That’s all that mattered now. He simply had a bug or something.

“Lemme go get the groceries, some painkillers and Gatorade will fix you right up.” He kissed his forehead before getting up, going downstairs to get the groceries from the elevator.

“Goddamnit V, the fuck are you doing?” Kerry swore, turning when he found his husband standing at the end of the stairs, in a hilariously inappropriate hoodie for this situation (the infamous ‘my next ride is your dad’ hoodie) and sweat pants.

“I don’t wanna stay in bed all day… the couch is closer to the bathroom and TV.” Vax had already disappeared behind the couch and dimmed the windows and lights before Kerry could argue. But he supposed it was fair.

The rest of the day was spent on the couch, making sure Vax stayed hydrated and comfortable. He even got him to keep down some broth Mama Welles suggested to get some nutrients in him. He kept it all down for the most part, and slept for most of the day. Even Nibbles came and laid on his chest, purring away while Kerry played with his hair.

———

“You have got to come get Ven, like now.” Okay that was a scary way to start that V. But his nerves were eased when he said Venus was sick with a fever. Not the best but at least he wasn’t dying. Hopefully-

Getting to the Afterlife was no issue, people greeted him like normal, he smiled and rushed to the back to see Venus and Vax sitting in there. Vax was crouched in front of their partner on the couch, rubbing his head. He stood when he saw Kerry, earning a groan from Venus.

“He’s got a high fever, and he’s got a bit of a cough. I called Vik, said to try to cool him down just in case it’s his cyberdeck.” Vax said softly, the two looking over at the half asleep Merc on the couch.

“I got it, don’t worry. I’ve dealt with you and Henry and Johnny plenty in my life time. Go back to work and don’t worry about anything, okay?”

“I’m gonna worry, that’s kinda in my job description as your husband and his input.” Vax did kiss him though and pulled back to go back to work.

“Hey sweetheart…” Kerry crouched in front of Venus, the nomad groaned. He looked awful, and sounded worse. “Let’s get you home and cooled off.” He scooped Venus up bridal style and carried him out. They earned concerned looks from Venus’s coworkers, but it was serious biz when Kerry Eurodyne was carrying you out like this.

Getting Venus home and undressed was easy, Kerry got him into a pair of shorts and a hoodie. He looked up at Kerry, trying to get him to lay down. The rocker kissed his knee and stood.

“I gotta go get you some water and a cool rag okay? I’ll be right back.” Venus groaned, but laid down.

He wasn’t gone long, coming back to find goose bumps over Venus’s skin. He frowned when he complained he was cold, but sighed one relief when the cold rag was pressed again his hot skin.

Kerry covered him with a thin blanket and sat next to him, watching him drift to sleep. Venus was always a light sleeper, but now he was full on snoring. He looked like hell, and must’ve been exhausted.

Venus only woke up once while waiting for Vax to get home, and Kerry managed to get some water and cough medicine in him before he passed back out. He stayed with Venus the whole time, cuddling him when he wanted and pulling away when Venus mumbled in his sleep about being too hot. But he never left his side.

[gruesomejack]

You're A Star

Andy did vomit. The second he was able to get away from Desmond and have some time to himself, he found himself hovering over the nearest trashcan and emptying everything he'd eaten that day. As he wretched and tried his hardest not to cry, a few locals came by to pat his back and voice their worries. "Don't get too sick on us, Campbell! We need you for the championships!"

Fuck baseball. The game was the furthest thing from his mind right now. Instead, front and center, was the hurt look on Jonathan's face as he and his brother beat into him. Betrayal. Andy whimpered over the trash and blinked back a few tears. He should've told Des to get lost. In hindsight, Jon having a crush on him probably wouldn't have done much at all, would it? It'd put a new target on his back, but he himself would've gotten away unscathed. He should've just let him down gently and held onto his own feelings until he could figure out what to do with them.

But it was too late for that now. If he tried to pull Jonny aside and apologize, he was sure it wouldn't go over well. There was no excuse for what he did and knowing he lost all of that boy's trust in him had him dry heaving.

He could've had him. It would've had to be a secret, especially from Jon's family, but that didn't mean they couldn't have given it a go. Sweet, private dates and the weight of Jonny's hands in his own. He bet he'd look beautiful after a few kisses, with glossy pink lips and a sense of wonder in those strange eyes. Andy clenched his jaw and banged his fist against the steel rim of the garbage can. He'd fucked it up big time.

Standing up, he wiped the drool from his mouth on his sleeve and gave one last spit to get the taste of bile out of his mouth. Rubbing the side of his face, he took in a deep breath and pushed it out slowly. He couldn't win Jon's trust back, but he could still keep supporting him even if it was from afar. And one day, when they were both old enough to be able to think about this in a more distant light, he'd do his best to show him he was sorry.

---

Jonny,

I've been waiting for you to say something like that to me, practically begging for it! I can't keep my eyes or my hands off you and I was hoping you'd eventually get the hint that I desperately want to be more to you than just some guy that steals your snacks and drinks your sodas. Don't get me wrong, I love doing that too, but I want more.

You are so interesting, and please don't let anyone else try and twist that. You're not weird, you're not a creep. You're... wonderful. Every time we speak, you're telling me something new, and I can't help but love the way your face lights up when you do it. And I think I really really like you. There's another word I won't dare to write because I don't deserve it.

Someday soon, I'll tell you. I'm sorry for being such a coward, Jon.

Talk to you sometime,

Andy

[ask-postgame-v3]

i LOVE rusty metal and large heights don't u guys think they're cool

You don't get much of an answer as both Kokichi and Kirumi rush in different directions to go throw up. Seems neither one was fond of the memories that brought up...

...

The press! The fucking press! Kokichi thought. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts! Shit, I can't make it go away!

He could barely even hear all those thoughts over the sounds of him vomiting into the trashcan in the dining room, Sonia taking notice of him and comfortingly placing a hand on his back, using her other to hold his hair back. Though his instinct was to jerk away, his body had become too weak from losing all those fluids, so instead, he just... let her.

...

Kirumi collapsed beside the toilet of her dorm room restroom, dry heaving with nothing coming out, panting and moaning in agony as she did so. Unlike Kokichi, who had someone to take notice of him, Kirumi had locked the door when she ran off. Fortunately, however, someone still heard her cries of pain, and a gentle knock resounded at the door.

"Tojo?" Aoi's soft voice called.

"Y-Yes, Asahina-San?" Kirumi croaked back weakly.

"I just wanted to make sure you were in there... Are you alright?" Hina asked gently.

"I'll be fine..."

[orwocolor]

the taste of strawberries

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Fluff with sprinkles of smut (18+ ONLY)

Summary: A lazy summer afternoon spent with Eddie Munson at your favourite meeting spot in the woods.

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a drabble! Well, enjoy 3k words of cheeky smiles, summer heat and melting ice cream :)

the gif is mine

“Hi,” you said gleefully and placed a soft kiss on Eddie’s jaw as he jumped a bit, so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard you approaching your favourite spot in the woods.

“Hi,” he responded, clearing his throat, and the cutest blush spread over his cheeks. You didn’t mean to catch him off guard like this, but the slight embarrassment that he tried to hide earned him a gentle chuckle from you.

“Here, as you ordered.” You placed a cold package in his palms and plopped down right next to him on the top of the picnic table, the merriment still detectable in your voice. It was usually him who got to tease you mercilessly and so you were basking in the oh-so-rare and oh-so-cherished moment, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

The smile only widened when he whispered his thanks and gave you a look full of adoration. The force of his eyes was so intense that you couldn’t help but cast your gaze down, focusing on the popsicle in your hands. You tore the packaging open despite your fingers ever-so-slightly trembling as Eddie followed suit and opened his strawberry ice cream cone. Crumpling the piece of plastic in your palm, you tossed it in the direction of a nearby trashcan.

And you missed.

Groaning internally, you made a move to lift it and properly throw it into the bin, but Eddie was faster, stopping you in your tracks with a warm palm on the exposed skin of your knee.

“Well, well, well. I know the whole town thinks Eddie Munson must have put you under some kind of wicked spell or something, considering you seem to be willing to spend time with me and god, if they only knew we do so much more than that,” he made a dramatic pause and waggled his eyebrows at you as it was your turn to blush, the corners of your mouth widening in a grin, before he bent down to pick up the trash and continued, “Y/N, corrupted and up to no good. Hell, maybe even worshipping the devil himself! But come on, littering?”

You burst into laughter and the broad smile that he gave you in return, his chest swelling in pride of making you laugh, added even more happiness to your giggles.

“No, really. Not even bad girls like you litter,” he said, the twitch in the corners of his lips giving away his teasing. No longer resisting, his smile widened and he approached you, his hands once again finding your knees and spreading them to gain access to your mouth, placing a gentle kiss right there on your lips. You tilted your head forward and chased his mouth when he made a move to pull away, and your heart fluttered when he answered your silent plea and deepened the kiss instead. When his tongue brushed against yours, you pushed your hips closer to his and shoved your hand in his hair, your fingers digging into his soft curls. That only encouraged Eddie to add more fervour to his kiss and touches, leaving you completely breathless.

“Ah, careful!” you yelped when his ice cream made contact with your bare arm, both of you suddenly aware of the goodies in your hands. The dessert left a pink trail on your skin and before you could find a tissue and clean yourself, Eddie licked at the spot on your arm, humming with appreciation.

“Mhmm, so delicious.”

He kept running his tongue against your skin, making sure not to miss any bit of the strawberry ice cream, as he held your gaze steadily.

Breathing hard from making out only seconds ago, your chest heaved rapidly, the sensation of the intimate touch causing a jolt of pleasure to run through your limbs and settle in your core, the familiar warmth spreading between your legs. When he finished, he placed a soft kiss on your arm, your shoulder, and your jaw, which elicited a moan from your throat, before he finally reached your mouth, silencing the whimper that was about to escape your lips.

“All good,” he said when he broke the kiss to smile at you.

“Thank you,” you answered and leaned forward to give him another kiss. But then it hit you. The ice cream. More specifically, the melting ice cream, you thought to yourself as the juice from your popsicle trickled down the stick and your fingers. It was as if Eddie followed the track of your thought, his gaze dropping between you and landing on the ice cream.

He pecked your lips one last time with a promise of “later” breathed against your mouth and reluctantly took a seat next to you. You could still taste the strawberries on your tongue as he wrapped his arm around you. And if you’d noticed his fingers grazing the side of your breast, you decided not to comment on it.

“God, that’s the good shit right there!” Eddie exclaimed loudly, taking another bite of the strawberry ice cream – your own teeth hurting at the image – and he squeezed your side, his lips smacking.

“Though,” he said after a few seconds of munching on the dessert, “I gotta admit, it tasted way better on your skin.” He gave you a lopsided grin and you shook your head with amusement, nudging his side.

“Good to know, I’ll keep that in mind,” you said and threw him a suggestive wink.

“Oh, sunshine,” he smirked at you, but you felt the sudden hitch in his breathing, most probably caused by the images flashing in his head of him licking sweet ice cream from every inch of your body.

“So,” you started, changing the subject, too distracted by the tremor in your lower stomach, “any plans for the summer?”

You began to nibble at your popsicle again as Eddie pursed his lips in thought.

“I don’t know. Fix my uncle’s car, host a couple of D&D campaigns, play with the band at The Hideout, and…” He made a pause and after a moment, it seemed he was not going to finish the sentence.

“And?” you probed as you tried to catch his gaze.

“And,” he said with a newly gained confidence in his voice although he still refused to meet your eyes, “spend as much time as I can with you.”

“Yeah?” Your voice almost broke on that one little syllable and you inched closer to Eddie, the tips of your fingers landing on the threads in his ripped jeans, mindlessly tugging at them.

“Yeah,” he replied earnestly and finally met your gaze, the hopeful spark glinting in his eyes. “That is if you would like to spend some more time with me as well,” he added in haste, and your heart broke a bit as that spark dimmed.

“Of course I would love that!” you answered in an instant, desperate to bring the glimmer of hope back. It hadn’t been very long since you started seeing each other, only a couple of months to be precise, but you felt like you’d known each other for ages. Yes, it was still rather unbelievable that a guy like him would choose you, but he never failed to prove to you how much you meant to him. And you were sure your own actions reflected the same sentiment. Therefore it still took you by surprise every time Eddie’s own insecurities came to the surface.

A speck of doubt still dancing on his face, it was as clear as day that he needed a bit more reassurance, and so you cupped his face and forced him to hear the sincerity in your voice as you repeated the words. To confirm the truth, you drew yourself closer to him, the foot resting on the bench serving as a support while the other kept dangling from the table, and once again you closed the distance between your lips.

God, this was getting ridiculous, wasn’t it? All you wished to do was kiss Eddie, no matter the time or place. You could get easily drunk on the mixture of his saliva combined with the sweetness of the strawberry ice cream. The rush of excitement fizzled in the tips of your toes and fingers and gradually spread through your veins. When you could no longer resist the urge to catch your breath and you broke apart, a wide grin playing on his lips was matching yours.

Ah, he could be such a silly boy sometimes, you shook your head and stretched your neck to give his nose a little smooch because that was exactly what silly boys like him deserved. The beautiful shade of pink returned to his cheek, and you shot him a smile before your focus shifted back to your popsicle.

“Well then, the important question is,” he began as you licked and sucked at the ice cream, and the way he added a dramatic edge to his words took you to the D&D campaigns during which you had witnessed him as the dungeon master, “what are we gonna do for the whole two months?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed in reply, releasing the popsicle from your mouth with a loud smack of your lips, “you’re right! No classes, which means no getting up early, no after-school activities of mine, no detentions of yours,” your eyes caught his and he bestowed you a shameless grin, “oh, and my family going abroad for at least three weeks, which means no curfews and looking after my little brother! Gosh, you have no idea how excited I am!” You were positively giddy, almost bouncing in your seat at the vision of a summer break spent in Eddie Munson’s embrace.

“I think I get the idea,” he replied, amused by your delight. “But what do you wanna do with all that free time on our hands?”

“I genuinely have no idea,” you admitted and giggled when a thought crossed your mind. “Apart,” you stressed the word as your eyebrows shot higher to give Eddie a pointed look, “from the obvious, of course. Regarding that, I’m pretty sure that’s gonna be our main item on the summer break agenda.”

His face brightened and you bit down on your bottom lip in a rather unsuccessful attempt to stop the grin spreading across your face.

“But for real, whatever you would like to do, sweetheart, your wish is my command.” He raised your hand, the one that kept pulling at the edges of the hole in his ripped jeans, to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles before letting go again. But the lack of contact was something he was not able to come to terms with, it seemed, especially after the expectation of many happy moments spent with you in his bed during the summer break. Or your bed, he wasn’t picky. Placing his warm palm on the small of your back, his fingers found the spot at the edge of your shorts and started to dance on your skin, drawing intricate patterns and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You clicked your tongue, trying to establish some order to your swirling thoughts. “Maybe we could go to the movies?”

“Yeah, I like that! Just you and me, we can snuggle to each other in the darkness of the theatre, share the popcorn, kiss till we’re both breathless and then on our way home we can totally tear all the creative decisions to shreds. Well, at least those which we’ve actually paid attention to.” He bestowed you another one of his radiant smiles and took another bite of his ice cream, the edges of the wafer cone snapping.

“I like the sound of that,” you laughed and returned to your own popsicle. “Oh, what about the fair?! I’ve never been to!”

“Neither did I. Not really my kind of scene.” He pointed his thumbs at his chest as if to explain his reluctance to go there and you rolled your eyes. Since the time Jason called Eddie a freak in front of the whole school, the nickname had stuck, and it seemed like Eddie was hiding behind the unfair label and the life of disapproving looks targeted his way that came with it.

“But!” he continued after a few beats of silence. “If you win me a teddy bear at the shooting gallery, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”  

Huffing out a laugh, you nodded your head and offered him your hand to shake. “Deal.”

He raised his forefinger. “The big one! Not those embarrassingly small ones they give out to crying kids as a consolation prize.”

“Okay,” you chuckled and he stretched out his arm, happy with your answer.

He wrapped his fingers around your hand, the coldness of his ring sending a small shiver down your spine, and he pulled you forward, your mouths crashing and noses bumping. You readily complied, never saying ‘no’ to another make-out session, albeit very quick, and you relished the now-familiar hint of strawberries on his tongue.

Eddie and you wore a matching look when you pulled away, cheeks flushed and warm, and all you could think about was the hot wetness that once again seemed to find refuge between your legs. “What about the pool? My mum said she heard on the news that this year’s heat is gonna be unbearable.”

“Nah, not the pool.” He made a grimace, and you felt your forehead creasing in confusion. “Too crowded and people have nothing better to do than to stare and gossip,” he offered as an explanation and brought his ring-clad fingers to the edge of your shorts, playing with the hem, his eyebrows contorted.

You berated yourself silently. Of course the pool was out of option, weren’t you listening? Honestly, you blamed your foolishness on the kissing. It was always difficult to concentrate, your thoughts in a haze, as a single slide of his lips against yours caused you to melt in his arms.

“Maybe Lover’s Lake, then?” you offered instead. “There’s one entrance to the water that no one knows about, and the surrounding woods provide enough privacy.”

“Hmm, privacy, you say?” The palm resting above your knee began to climb up your thigh. “What could you possibly have in your mind, Y/N?”  

“I don’t know,” you lilted. Batting your eyelashes, you feigned bashfulness, an idea forming in your head. “All innocent thoughts, I swear!” The solemness dripped with each syllable as you brought the melting popsicle to your lips. It could hardly measure up to Eddie’s size, but it served its purpose well. Your tongue darted out and the movement caught his attention. Making sure your eyes were locked on his, the tip of your tongue reached the base of the ice. You flattened it and dragged it oh-so-slowly upwards, gathering the trickles of sweet, coloured water in your mouth.

You heard a loud gulp as Eddie swallowed hard, mesmerised, his unwavering glare trained on you.

When your tongue had traced the popsicle all the way up to its tip and you opened your mouth and slowly started sinking down, Eddie cursed and jumped off the picnic table.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me!” he exclaimed and made a circle around the edge of your meeting spot, scaring away a squirrel that had played in a nearby pile of pine needles.

You freed the ice from your mouth with a very wet ‘pop’ and rewarded him with a victorious smile.

He shook his head in disbelief and began to bite his nails. “That’s how you wanna play this, huh?”

You nodded, your eyes sparkling with glee.

“Yeah? Is that so? Well, sweetheart,” he clicked his tongue and gave you a hungry look, “two can play the game.”

In only a few strides, he reached your sitting form and stood right in front of you, his face dangerously close, your heart racing with anticipation.

At first, you hadn’t noticed the wafer cone rising to his chin. It was only when he pushed his tongue inside, with force and determination, that a small whimper escaped your lips. Flicking his tongue, he started licking the soft cream with fervour and when he closed his eyes and moaned obscenely, you completely lost it.

“Oh gosh, Eddie!!” you squealed and concealed your face in your hand, your cheeks rapidly growing hot. You yanked at his arm to make him stop, not willing to admit that you were both shocked and incredibly aroused at the same time.

“What?” he chuckled, pretending to be baffled. “You were the first to start with this!”

“I know!” You burrowed your face into his chest. It was one thing to tease and pretend to be a self-confident, experienced girlfriend; it was another to be on the receiving end of such provocations.

“Aww, sunshine.” He rubbed your back, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, and gently grasped your chin as he waited until you met his gaze.  

“You’re adorable, you know that? And you’re also very sweet. Way sweeter than this,” he gestured to the ice cream and added with a wink, “both literally and metaphorically.”

Another wave of heat threatened to wash over your face, but before the strength of his beautiful eyes could make you flick your gaze away and squirm in your seat, Eddie pushed a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek. Nuzzling to the warmth of his touch, you released a sigh of relief at the familiar feeling and let him lean down and kiss you senseless.

Here it was again, the tell-tale hint of strawberries on his tongue. You savoured the intoxicating taste, smiling into the hungry kisses.

“What do you think?” Eddie breathed out, parting from your lips. “Maybe we could go to my place and continue there?”

You hid your smile into the crook of his neck, his hair tickling your nose.

“I would love that,” you whispered against his skin and felt his pulse quicken.

The summer break couldn’t start soon enough.

~

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3